Jealous Much?
by TheLastPrototype
Summary: In love with a criminal? Old news. But what if he's no longer available to be your guilty pleasure? Jealous, Sammie?
1. A Little Bit Of Rivalry Is Healthy, No?

Ohmygod. I didn't think I'd move on to a Scamantha fic this fast, but I had this idea a while ago and I felt like I should really really write it down and see what you guys think. There are, of course, many many many SamxScam stories out there, most probably better than mine, but hey, it's still fun to write about Scam. GO SCAM! Scam is, in fact, the dope :)

So please read and review, because that would be really nice. I'm writing another TS fic too, but I think it's not for everyone. It's about Clover. Enough said.

Buuuut anyway, feel free to hate Avery. I definitely would. Oh, and also, I made Avery up, completely. Maybe there are some Brittany-elements in her character, but that's just because they're both those "perfect" characters that everyone loves to trash.

And no worries guys, it's still a Scamantha fic. They is gonna get together :D Unless, of course, they DON'T. A-HA! That should keep you interested :P Okay, so now I kind of gave away my plan as to how to keep you reading. Damn. Okay. All right. Let's go then.

**Diclaimer:**

**Hi. It's me. Crying. **

**Because all rights go to Marathon Inc.**

**Please turn off the camera.**

...

...

...

I am applying just a touch of make-up to my face when the doorbell rings.

"Sam!" My mother's voice sounds annoyed. "Come down here! We're trying to make her feel welcome, remember?"

I lean my head back, then look at my reflection and sigh. Time to practice. I plaster the hugest, fakest smile I can possibly manage onto my face. "Hi, Avery," I say, but I sound just a little bit TOO enthusiastic. I glance at myself one last time and run a hand through my hair. Oh well. Might as well just get it over with.

My mother is waiting at the bottom of the stairs. She raises an eyebrow at me, and I can feel my cheeks become hot. It's now wonder she looks so surprised. This is by far the skimpiest, most revealing thing I own. But, as always, she doesn't say anything, just stares at me until I become extremely uncomfortable. Her slightly disgusted expression brings back my defensive side, though. I cross my arms over my chest.

"What?" I ask, irritated.

Mom just looks at me.

"Ugh. What kind of double standard is this, anyway? Avery wears these kinds of dresses all the time, and no one ever thinks it's anything but normal!"

"Honey," she says, softly, which only makes me more angry, "Avery is three years older than you."

"So?" I scoff. "She still acts like a kid."

My mother sighs and rubs her left temple. "You would be surprised at how much she has changed this past year. She's a real adult now. Something that YOU clearly aren't. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're the one who seems to be acting like an immature child right now."

This silences me. The one thing I always had over Avery was that I was the mature one. I'm not about to give up my only advantage.

"Speaking of Avery," I say, smirking just a little now, "isn't she waiting outside?"

As Mom's eyes open wide with surprise and embarassment, I can't keep myself from chuckling slightly. She has been preparing for tonight for at least the past week - cleaning the whole houses, cooking the largest dinner we've had in years, and all in all doing a lot more for Avery than she's ever done for me. I shrug to myself. Well, Avery was always her favorite. I'm stuck in second place, but it was okay as long as Avery was only here on family gatherings. But living with us? Nightmare alert!

My mother rushes to the door, then halts and smooths down her hair and clothes. She glances back at me expectantly, so, reluctantly, I go and stand next to her.

The door opens, but I don't even register who is standing in front of me. I just smile brightly, as practiced. "Hi Avery," I gush. _Perfect_, I think to myself. _She'll never know that I hate her guts._

Then I look at her, and my proud smile vanishes. I feel my stomach tightening, almost making me nauseous. Before me stands a woman; sophisticated, beautiful. Gone are the short, provocative dresses and the cheap jewellery. Instead, Avery is wearing a cream-coloured poncho, expensive-looking skinny jeans and gorgeous high-heeled boots. Her auburn hair, so much less alarming in its colour than mine, spills over her shoulders in it's natural curls, instead of being straight-ironed to death like she used to wear it. Her smile is warm and genuine. And loving.

I hate her so much at that moment that for a second I think I'm going to strangle her.

Then I remember the whole maturity-thing. I clench my teeth and try to smile back. As if she had expected something else, Avery looks relieved and her grin widens.

"Sammie," she squeals and throws her arms around my mom and me. "And Gaby! I missed you guys! I can't believe you're letting me stay with you!"

_Me neither_, I want to say. But I bite my tongue.

The hug ends and Mom and Avery go inside. I look at the cab driver who stands in our driveway, looking slightly lost in the middle of a mountain of Avery's bags. Sighing, I go and help him carry them in. Then I carry them up the stairs. I think about savagely murdering my cousin the whole time I am doing this.

When I'm done, I walk back to the kitchen, which was just renovated to months ago. My mother and cousin sit around the sleek marble counter island in the middle of the room, sipping champagne from the flutes that I swear we haven't used in at least three years. They seem to be getting along great. I go and sit next to Avery on one of the siver stools standing there, and rest my head on my hands, exhausted.

"Oh, darling," my mother says with a concerned glance, "you look so tired. You should go to bed. It IS a school day tomorrow." They both look at me sympathetically, like I'm some little kid.

"I'm not tired," I reply, feeling insulted. "I am just exhausted because SOMEONE decided to leave their bags for me to carry."

"Sammie, I'm so sorry!" Avery says. The worst thing is that she really does look very sorry. "I didn't mean for YOU to have to carry all of them. I was going to do it myself later -"

"Avery," Mom interrupts her quickly, "it's our pleasure. Isn't it, Sam? After all, you are built in such a delicate, feminine way. Sam has no problem carrying bags. You know, she just has those strong, broad shoulders that her father had."

I gape at her. Did she just call my shoulders MANLY? Avery seems to notice my exasperation and rushes to ease the tension.

"Oh, but you do have such a nice figure, Sammie. Stand up, I want to see how tall you are."

I rise, reluctantly, and stand there awkwardly, not really knowing whether to blush or laugh or twirl or whatever. Then I see Avery's face. Her eyebrows are raised as she stares at my dress. I have the sudden urge to cover myself, and I know this outfit was a big mistake. But how was I supposed to know that she was going to show up looking all grown-up and classy? I thought it would be like all those other times, when I felt boring just standing next to Avery and having every guy's eyes glued to her body.

My mother watches us, and tuts at me. "Honey, I told you that dress was-"

I silence her with a death stare. The tension between us is palpable.

"It's... nice. I- I like it," Avery says, smiling hesitantly. But she's not fooling me. The patronizing tone, the cozying-up-to-my-mother act... Avery is NOT FOOLING ME. Really! Somewhere under the nice-girl-facade is the cousin who stole my first boyfriend and threw up on my brand new party dress, all in the same night. That night, of course, being my sixteenth birthday party. Which she crashed and then made her own. Good times.

And she never even apologized. I swear all of it was on purpose. Because, deep down, Avery hates me even more than I hate her.

I blink and surface from my thoughts of revenge, realizing that the others have returned to their pleasant chatter. As far as I can tell, they are now discussing Avery's love life. I snort. _More like sex life_, I think. Avery doesn't love anyone.

"Well, Gaby, that just means so much to me, that you would want to meet him. Of course, we haven't actually been on a date yet... so do you think it would be to forward to ask him over?" Avery gushes.

I grin slyly. "Well, Avery, I do know you as being _very_ forward when it comes to men, right?"

Avery looks hurt - that's right, she got the message. Slut.

She recovers from my comment a bit too quickly for my taste. Oh well.

"He _does_ seem to like me a lot! And he's so very charming," she continues. I feel like throwing up.

"What's his name, then?" Mom asks enthusiastically. Of course she would want to know. Anyone Avery likes _must_ be amazing. As opposed to my boyfriends, who are _never_ suitable, in my Mom's mind. Ever.

Avery giggles in fake embarassment. "Silly me, I completely forgot about that," she laughs. "His name is Timothy."

...

...

...

GASP! OHMYGOD!

Are we over it?

Tim Scam and Avery, sitting in a tree. Yup.

Sucks to be you, Sammie.

I hope you like it, please review, or else I might have to stop this, because 2 stories at a time is sort of exhausting. But I just had to write this down. Anyway, get ready for a few enticing twists in the plot, I'm going crazy with this one :)

Love from TheLastPrototype.


	2. When In Doubt, Faint

Bonjour again. 'Tis moi. And also, 'tis the season. As in, winter. As in, this is gonna be a Christmas chapter. Major excitement over here!

I love winter. So much. And it's about to get toasty. In case you didn't get it, toasty as in Scam. As in hot. And delicious.

Enjoy :)

**Disclaimer:**

**Oh, hell, like I even have to say it.**

**I do, don't I? You guys are so mean.**

**So here goes - TS belongs to Marathon Inc. Not me. No. I am not Marathon Inc. Really. Okay. Got it? All righty then. Let us proceed :D**

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I glance at my alarm clock. The red, blinking lights tell me it's midnight. _Fantastic. Really. That's just great. I mean, especially great, considering I'm meeting Clover and Alex for Christmas shopping tomorrow (or shall we say: today?) at, like, 7:30 am, to get it done before school. _

But I can't sleep. Me being a person who sleeps like a log after 2 minutes in bed. Seriously.

_I can't deal with this_, I think to myself. Because my mind is spinning, even an hour after Avery made the Timothy-comment. Timothy. _Of course it's not him_, I tell my fluttering heart. _Tim Scam is the last person who would be in a relationship with my cousin. Hello? That's not even POSSIBLE!_

And yet I can't fall asleep. Because every time I close my eyes, there he is. There he is, with those eyes, and that face, and... and that smile. That smile that drives me mad... with disgust. _Of course, Sam. It's disgust. Pure hatred. That's all it is_. That's why my stomach drops when I think of him - he disgusts me. That's it.

I smile to myself in the dark. I feel like I've won some kind of war.

My grin turns into a frown as I remember that the real war is far from over. The REAL enemy is right there, in the room next to mine, probably looking gorgeous even when she's sleeping. _Ugh_.

But when I think of her... I have to think of him. _Him, him, him. _My eyelids droop. _Him, him_. It's like a lullaby. _Him_.

HIM!

I sit up in bed with a start. That presence in my room just now - I felt it, it felt so real, so real. He was here, he was here, just now, he's... still here?

I'm too scared to get out of bed. The fear consumes me, overwhelms me. It's so irrational. _He can't be here. It's impossible, Sam. You were __half asleep. Practically dreaming._

I try hard to calm down, regulate my breathing. I shiver in the cold, goosebumps all over. My eyes dart to the window, where the curtain flutters in the cold winter breeze.

A few minutes later, I am once again lying there with my eyes closed, and I think I might really be falling asleep, finally!

But all the while, and all night after that, even in my dreams, I can't shake the ghostly presence of the thought that haunts me - _That window was closed when I came in. I never opened it._

_..._

_..._

_..._

"Sam! Wake up, Sammie!" Avery's voice is chirpy and way too loud. Not to mention extremely irritating. I grumble something that even I can't decipher and pull the blanket up over my head.

"Sammie, sweetie, I made waffles! I thought we could have a nice family breakfast, so I woke you up early to make sure you wouldn't be late to see your little friends."

And she's done it again; ruined my day in a matter of seconds, just by being her patronizing, phony self. And also, by waking me up early. I am NOT a morning person.

But anyway, I'm awake (and furious) now, thanks to Avery, so I decide that it can't hurt to get up. Yawning, I stretch my arms and legs and sit up in my bed, only to bury myself under the covers yet again. My room is FREEZING.

Trying to determine the reason for this, I look around, see the window, STILL open, and shake my head in annoyance. Last night's fear seems unrealistic. _I must have opened the window while my mind was someplace else, _I tell myself. _Oh well. But... that really doesn't explain temperatures being THIS low!_

As quickly as I can, I throw off my blanket and rush to the window to close it before that cold air fully hits my body. But the sight outside has me frozen in a completely different way. I am frozen in awe.

Snow. Snow in Beverly Hills. Sure, it's December, but HERE? This is... amazing. Magical. I want to scream in delight and dance between the twirling snowflakes and laugh and sing and... everything. I feels like a miracle.

A miracle just for me.

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...

I make my way downstairs slowly, checking my outfit in the mirror at the bottom of the staircase. Skinny jeans, furry boots, knit cardigan - I look a lot more like myself today. I tie my hair up into a ponytail and smile. I'm feeling very Christmas-y, and it's only the 12th of December. Then, I make a silent wish - I really, really want the snow to stay until Christmas.

As I walk into the kitchen, I glance at the clock on the wall - 7:00 am. I have time for a quick breakfast before I head off to the Groove. I can't wait to hear what Clover and Alex think of the snow.

Avery and Mom are waiting for me when I walk into the kitchen. While I sit down, my mother sighs happily.

"I cant remember the last time we had a family breakfast. Thank you, Avery," she says.

Avery smiles sweetly. I gag. _She's such a fake!_

"Well," she simpers, "would you mind if we had one small addition to the table?"

_YES, _I think.

"No, of course not, honey," my mother answers for both of us. "Who is it?"

"I wanted you guys to meet Timothy."

I choke on my waffles.

"At seven in the morning?" I ask, coughing. "Really?"

"No time like the present, Sammie," she exclaims brightly, "seize the day."

I. Just. Look. At. Her.

The bell on the front door rings.

"Well, he's here now," my mother says decisively, staring at me pointedly. "And we're going to make him feel welcome. Right, Sam?"

I nod slowly, not taking my eyes off of Avery, who has started to chew on her lower lip nervously - _what an annoying habit_, I think to myself.

She's afraid I'm going to throw a fit, embarass her. Well, I'm not about to give her the staisfaction of being immature. I square my shoulders and head for the door, while Avery stands up shakily.

The door opens - it's my mother who does it. And then the cold air is rushing in, and that's when I see him, and I am consumed by a completely different kind of cold, and I'm drowning in sea-foam colored eyes, and then I really AM drowning, and I can't breathe, and there come the goosebumps, too, and my blood is pumping all the way up in my ears, and before I even have time to gasp for air, I'm down and out.

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...

I'm on the living room couch when I regain concsiousness. My first thought is of him, but I just can't deal with that right now, so I push him out of my mind and concentrate on something only slightly less worrying: Clover and Alex. I look around - the living room is empty apart from myself. With shaky hands I pull my phone from my pocket and almost drop it - 11:00 am! AND seven missed calls, fifteen texts and three voice messages from my friends. _Great_, I think,_ this is just great._

Then another thing hits me - I missed school today! We have our Maths and Chemistry exams today, and I've been preparing for over a month. And now? Do I just get a big, fat zero? A soothing voice in my head tells me that they're just practice exams, not finals, but I'm still close to full-blown panic. _Things can't get any worse,_ I think, but moments later I am proven wrong: Avery and my Mom rush in with worried looks on their faces.

"Honey! What happened?" my mother asks, overly concerned as always. But I don't look at her. Instead, my eyes are glued to my cousin, who, strangely enough, no longer looks worried for me. Her big brown eyes are narrowed, her mouth set in a firm line. I'm confused.

"Probably stress," she says evenly. "Sam has been staying up late doing schoolwork for a while now, right, Gaby?" For a split second, I ask myself how Avery knows this, but dismiss the thought quickly. My Mom probably said something about it to her.

Then I realize that Avery has just provided me with a much better explanation for why I fainted than the truth. I smile reassuringly at my mother.

"Yes," I agree, nodding quicky, "yes, that must have been it."

Avery smiles tightly, politely, then turns and leaves the room. My mother and I are left standing (or, in my case, lying) there, baffled by her sudden behavioural change.

Seconds later I forget my confusion, my mind wiped blank as Avery reenters the room. Her arm is linked with his, and I feel as though I could faint all over again.

There he is. There is the man with probably the most beautiful and deceiving eyes in the world. The man with the deep voice, the one that makes me shiver. The man with the most amazing intelligence I have ever known.

The man who has tried to kill me so many times.

The man who, at this moment, stands in my living room, half-smiling sheepishly in fake-worry. And who is also my cousin's new boyfriend.

"Tim," I breathe, and then I want ot slap myself. Firstly, because Avery and my Mom are in the room and I have no way whatsoever of explaining how we know each other. And secondly, because I called him by his first name. Am I crazy? It's way too intimate. NOW what will he think?

Meanwhile, my mother is looking at me doubtfully.

"Sam?" she askes. "Do you two... know each other?"

Her question throws me out of balance. I have no excuse ready; I am fully unprepared, because I never, EVER expected to be in this situation. Then I hear Scam's voice, and my breath catches. I had forgotten just how speechless hearing him makes me.

"We used to date."

He does not take his eyes off me as he says this. They hold me captive - I can't even think about his words. Yeah. He's THAT powerful.

Then he breaks eye contact, but I feel his unspoken words in the air all around me. It's as though he's daring me to deny what he said. I don't. Maybe it's the shock, or maybe it's just... him. I honestly have no idea.

Instead, I glance around nervously, anticipating Mom's and Avery's reactions.

While, as was to be expected, my mother gasps, my cousin's reaction completely throws me. Her eyebrows are raised - practically to the ceiling - and for a moment I think I see her lips twitching, close to a smile of amusement. It's gone as soom as I see it, though, and when her expression changes to obvious outrage, I begin to think I've just imagined it.

"And you didn't think you should tell me this in the, what, FOUR HOURS you've been here?" she demands, staring at Scam accusingly.

He smirks.

"It was a long time ago," he drawls."I didn't think it mattered."

Avery gapes at him, then turns and flounces from the room without another word, apparently having switched to drama-queen-mode. My mother follows her, but not before staring Scam and me down, sending us a clear be-ashamed-of-yourselves vibe. I squirm, while Scam actually looks embarassed. Tim Scam - EMBARASSED. I didn't think I'd ever see that happen...

Well, that's what my Mom does to people, I guess.

Then she leaves, and it's just me and him now. The living room suddenly seems a whole lot smaller. And warmer.

I sit up and stare at him.

"What was THAT? When did you get the idea that it would be okay to tell my family we DATED?" I hiss at him.

He shrugs nonchalantly.

"I was improvising."

"And THAT was the best you could come up with?" I sputter, almost forgetting to whisper.

"Didn't see YOU thinking of anything better."

He makes a good point... But I'm not letting him off that easily!

"Improvising, huh? Please," I huff. "You had PLENTY of time to come up with an answer in the time you've been here. Also, you KNEW this was my house. God, you probably even know Avery was my cousin! This is all just another one of twisted plans to hurt Alex, Clover and me, isn't it? Plus, what are you even DOING here? You're supposed to be locked up at WHOOP! I'd handcuff you RIGHT NOW if my family couldn't come in any minute!"

It appears my message doesn't get across too well, since Scam just leans his head back and laughs.

"Oh, Samantha," he sighs - and I hate the way I feel the heat rising up to my cheeks at hearing him call me by my full name - "don't you know anything? Do you REALLY think the world revolves around you? I had no idea that this was your house. I was surprised to see you, too, though I may not have fainted like a girl. And also, handcuff me if you like - provided that you can even manage that, considering the fact that you're still extremely weak and shaking all over. Take me back to WHOOP for all I care. It won't do you much good. I" - he spreads arms widely - "am a free man. And with my freedom, I can do whatever I like. With whomever I like. Avery included. So, you see, Samantha, you and your stupid little spy-friends really are of no concern to me whatsoever."

There are so many insults in his statement that I don't even know what to take offence at.

"You expect me to believe that?" I ask, but I sound weak, shaky, unsure, even to myself. It's embarassing. I try to cover it up with an accusation. "Everything you say a lie!"

This seems to make him angry. Sadly, seeing him angry gives me less satisfaction than I thought.

"Well," he says loudly, "you obviously refuse to listen to reason. Still acting like a whiney little girl, I see."

For some reason, this hurts me more than anything else he's said.

"Why am I still here?" Scam practically growls at me. "You're not worth the trouble. You're just a child. I'm leaving."

He turns and walks towards the front door. I can't believe it. He can't just insult me like that and get away with it, even having the last word, too.

"Yeah, well, stay away from my cousin!" I shout after him. It's the best I could come up with. Then again, I don't even know if he heard me, or whether he was already gone. All I know is that the room feels empty and cold. Shivering, I rub my arms.

My skin is covered in goosebumps.

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...

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah Scam was . At Sammie's hooouuusssseeeee!

YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!

I'm actually pretty happy with this chapter. And ALSO, sorry for not writing so long, I was in Switzerland and didn't take my laptop, because I wanted to fulfill my lifelong dream of being romantically snowed in at a chalet, cut off from the outside world. It worked, too. It was fantastic. I think I may have Scam and Sam snowed in together, alone, somewhere remote, for a chapter. That might be interesting :)

But anyways, worry not, my fair friends, for I took my notebook on vacation with me, and I've already finished the third and started on the fourth chapter. I just neep to type 'em all up. Ugh...

Soooooooooo, anyone becoming... confused by Avery? I sure hope so :D

And also, am I writing Scam right? I really want to do him justice. I luuurve me some Scam!

And also, I think I say "And also" too much XD Oh well...

READ AND REVIEW OR ELSE

OR ELSE

OR ELSE

... Or else I shall be quite sad and demotivated... :D

À bientot then,

TheLastPrototype (Yes. That's me.)


	3. Who Knows?

Voilà! Chapter Threeeeeeeee, Yayyyyy!

The creation of this chapter is a pretty tragic story (for me) - I had it done, completely, in my notebook, but even though it was good (I mean, it had the girls breaking into WHOOP to look at Scam's file because they couldn't reach Jerry on his phone, and there was a really great clliffhanger at the end) I realized Scam didn't actually appear in it. And we can't have that. SCAM HAS TO BE IN EVERY CHAPTER NOW BECAUSE HE'S... JUST... SCAAAAM!

So I rewrote it. I hope this version is a bit more enticing and romantic. Because I love me some Scamantha.

Sam will, as the title might suggest (doesn't it? xD), continue to be jealous for a while. I, personally, love to see Sam jealous, because it just makes it that much more difficult to deny her feelings for Scam. And don't we ALL want her to admit her feelings? Of course, I could just make that happen... but then where would the excitement come from? So I won't. For now.

Here goes:

**Disclaimer:**

**WAIT! Before I continue this (hopefully) intensely enjoyable tale, a quick shout-out to Marathon Inc. To whom TS belongs. Which makes me sad. But let's not get into that. Let's get into the story instead :D**

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In a matter of minutes, it seems, my home has turned into one big chaos. It's pandemonium. I can't even think about Scam and how I feel about all of this because my mother is using my "stress-related" symptoms as an excuse to keep me home so that she can interrogate me about my relationship with "Timothy". Meanwhile, Avery has locked herself in her room. I'm pretty sure she's crying, which really scares me. I'm so used to her being a drama queen - screaming at me, having a huge public meltdown... at least, if she were doing that, I'd know how to react. THIS, though, is unchartered territory. I have no idea what to do.

So, for four hours, I get to make up details about a fake relationship while feeling totally guilty about that same relationship, which, in case you forgot, NEVER EVEN EXISTED. All thanks to Tim Scam. How am I supposed to believe that this is not a plan to distract me from my spywork, when that's EXACTLY what it's doing?

At around 3:00 pm, mostly due to my friends' incessant texting, calling and voice messaging (to every phone in this house, might I add), my Mom finally lets me leave the house, if only to meet Clover and Alex for coffee at the 'Seasons Greetings Café' at the Groove.

I get there before my friends, so I sit down in a booth at the back of the café and order their special 'Christmas Coffee' (although I'm not sure how it differs from the Caramel-Nutmeg-Latte that they usually serve) with extra whipped cream, after deciding that now is not the time to worry about my weight.

I'm halfway through my drink when Alex and Clover rush in through the café. It has, apparently, started snowing again, because there's white, powdery stuff all over them. The waitress looks up, irritated by the noise the make coming in, but my friends take no notice.

"Sam!" Clover screeches as soon as she sees me and runs over to smother me in an enormous hug. Some of the snow caught in her blonde hair gets in my face, melting and tickling my nose. Alex is right behind her, throwing over a few chairs as she bustles through the small café in her big winter jacket, scarf, hat and mittens.

"Sorry. I'm so sorry," she mutters sheepishly to the people at the tables, but the embarassment on her face is quickly replaced by concern as she sits down across from me, after taking off her winter attire.

"What happened to you, Sammie?" she asks, getting right down to business. Alex doesn't DO small talk.

My friends' familiar faces look at me expectantly. Finally, I can tell someone the truth about what happened.

So I do.

...

...

...

"It's a scam. You're being Scammed, Sam," Clover says as soon as I'm done. I know she's right, but for some reason it feels like she's judging all of this too quickly. I mean, Scam looked so sincere when he said it was a coincidence... _No_, I scold myself. _That man was BORN a liar! It doesn't matter how convincing he was. _

"I know," I agree, "but what do we do now? Do we just... go after him?"

My friends look at me, and I realize that they were expecting me to come up with a solution. Too bad I don't have one.

Seconds later, I am relieved of the misery of having to decide our course of action when the trashcan behind our table opens up impossibly wide and swallows the three of us.

Hurtling down the WOOHP tunnel along with dozens of half-eaten sandwiches, used napkins and paper coffee cups, I turn back to face Alex, who is so close behind me that it's a miracle her feet aren't digging into my back right now.

"We can't get distracted by a mission," I yell at her over Clover's screams coming from somewhere below. "No matter what, we HAVE to make Jerry see how important this is! Are you with me?"

Alex nods in agreement. I smile, relieved, but am quickly brought back to reality when I recognize the anticipation in her eyes as she glances past me. I turn to see the tunnel plunging down straight before me. I shriek, and then I'm flying through thin air, but, moments later, a trap door under me seems to open and I fall onto the red couch, Alex landing right on top of me. We lie there in a mixed-up heap, consistently failing to disentangle ourselves, but then we hear Jerry clearing his throat. I feel Clovers hands on my arms, roughly pushing me upwards and off her. Unable to control my own body, I fall backwards from the sofa, limbs flailing wildly, and hear a sickening crunch as I crush Alex under me.

"Oww," she wails, and I roll off her quickly, then struggle to stand up.

"Oh my God, Alex, are you okay?" I ask, bending down to inspect her elbow, that seems to be bent at a strange angle.

"Alex! Sam! I'm so sorry!" Clover shrieks from her position on the couch.

Alex hasn't said a word. She cradles her left arm with the twisted elbow close to her chest and looks up at us accusingly.

"Great!" she says sarcastically. "How long do you think it'll take for this to heal, guys?" I reach out to pat her shoulder in attempted comfort, but Alex moves away from me politely, coldly. So I just stand there, rejected, hurt and slightly awkward.

Then, I start at the sound of Jerry's voice, realizing that I'd completely forgotten where we are for a moment.

"Well, Alex," he says quietly, carefully, "it seems that you won't be able to go on missions for a while, so... I'll have one of our agents escort you to the car that will take you home."

"You're... you're asking me to leave?" Alex asks incredulously.

"Well, what good would it do to stay while I inform the Clover and Sam of their mission?"

Alex looks dejected, weak. It's not the Alex I know.

"You're right. I'll go." A guard appears from the shadows. For a second, I ask myself whether he's been there the whole time. He grasps Alex's right arm firmly and motions for her to come with him. She nods meekly, her eyes on the ground.

"Oh, and, Alex, one last thing," Jerry calls. She looks up slowly. "Why don't you use this time as a sort of... vacation from your spywork? To relax, not have to think about missions all the time... Clover, Sam and I can handle all the work here while you're gone."

For a second I see disbelief and rage flicker across her eyes, but then Alex turns away.

"If that's what you want," she says. I barely hear her.

Then she's gone.

...

...

...

Minutes later, things at the office have stabilized, but there's a lot of tension under the surface. We aren't happy with Alex being sent away like this, and Jerry knows it, but at the same time he's making it clear that he doesn't want us to question his actions. So here we are. Yup. TENSION.

While I sit on the sofa, trying to stop my hands from fidgeting, Clover paces in front of me. She seems to be having some kind of internal debate. Finally, she nods silently and sits down next to me.

"So, Jerry. What's the mission?"

He coughs nervously and smiles a tight smile at us.

"Well," he says, "it's not so much about a mission as simply... me answering some questions you might have?"

We stare at him in disbelief.

"We're here to get answers?" Clover sputters. "Why couldn't Alex stay for this?"

"Well," Jerry says, with the perfect expression of fake concern, "she seems... overworked lately. Stressed. She needed this break. I'm sure you, as her friends, appreciate the attention that WOOHP is paying to Alex' well-being."

Clover sneers and crosses her arms in front of her chest.

"So, would you like me to answer your questions or not?" Jerry asks impatiently.

I exchange a glance with Clover. Then I turn back to face him.

"We would," I say.

"I assume this is about... Tim Scam?" Jerry says.

"How did you know?" Clover asks, suspicious.

Jerry's eyes widen for a second. It's like she's caught him off-guard, or something. Then, he stands up straighter, and the panicked expression leaves his face.

"Well," he says evenly, "WOOHP has been... monitoring his actions."

He's not helping me at all.

"How?" I ask incredulously. "And... Why do you even need to? Why is he not in prison, if you know where he is?"

"WOOHP has its ways," Jerry answers cryptically. "And, as to his freedom, Scam is currently... shall we say, innocent until proven guilty? It turns out the evidence that made him suspect in the last three offences he allegedly committed was forged, so his prison sentence has been cut short by a lot of years... We had to release him last Saturday."

Clover and I gape.

"I- I don't believe this. It's IMPOSSIBLE! How can you just let him go? This makes no sense!" She's working herself into a rant.

Meanwhile, my mind is filled with completely different thoughts. _So he was telling the truth... and I accused him of lying. What kind of person does that?_ I ask myself. But, of course, I can't share these concerns with either Jerry or Clover. Alex might have understood... but she's no longer here.

Instead, I ask: "So he just gets to terrorise me and prey on my unsuspecting cousin?"

Jerry chuckles, mystifying me. How can this be funny to him?

"Don't worry, Sam," he says, smirking. It's like he has some sort of inside-joke, except who would he have an inside-joke with, except for us? "I'm sure Avery will be fine. She has you to... protect her" - another chuckle - "after all, right?"

"Right," I say slowly. He's confused me. Then I realize something.

"Wait," I say, "how do you know her name?"

Now he fully bursts out laughing, like I'm so clueless it's hilarious.

"Oh, Sam," he says, wiping his eyes with the back of his right hand and reaching for something on his desk with the other. "When will you finally understand that WOOHP knows EVERYTHING?"

And with that, he pushes down on what I now realise is a fire-engine-red button.

"But we're not done here-" I begin as the trap door opens beneath me. And then I'm falling, haunted by images of Clover's panic-stricken eyes as she, too, enters the maze of WOOHP tunnels, and Jerry's crazed and slightly evil-genius-esque expression, that leaves me with one thought, and one thought only. It's enough, though, to fill me with a terror unlike any I've ever felt before.

_He knows._

...

...

...

I exit the tunnel and tumble onto my bed. Amidst fuzzy pillows and my comfy purple duvet, the idea seems so unrealistic.

I've never told anyone about my... Thing. My Extremely Irritating And Incessantly Embarassing And Totally Shameful Scam Thing. Not even Clover and Alex. I conveniently left it out of my account of Scam's intrusion into my home life. How would Jerry know about it? He couldn't.

And yet, I can't shake the feeling that he knows something about me that nobody else does. Of course, that doesn't necessarily have to be the Thing. But... I have no other secrets. What else could there possibly be for him to know. And if there is something, why isn't he telling me?

Suddenly, the pillows aren't that comforting anymore. It feels like they're suffocating me.

I get up, but my joints feel weary, like I can't really move. Clutching anything I can for support, I walk out of my room and down the stairs.

It feels like I'm being watched.

_Great_, I think,_ now I'm becoming paranoid_.

Mom's not home. Sighing, I go back upstairs and change into jogging shorts and a tank top. Padding into the kitchen in my fuzzy slippers, I get a tub of chocolate ice cream from the freezer. A romantic-movie-marathon should help right about now. I push open the door to the living room, stopping short as I see who's already there.

Avery.

And.

Scam.

And they're doing a hell of a lot more than just watching a movie.

...

...

...

Okay, so Scam's still not actually in this chapter. But still. I couldn't really keep going after that ending, right? I mean, whoa.

JERRY. CREEPY MUCH OR WHAT? I love that.

What does he knowwwww?

I hope I gave you enough to... umm... speculate about (or on?) until the next chapter.

Lotsa Lurrrve from

TheLastPrototype :)

P.S. Je suis TERRIBLY sorry for not publishing this sooner. Please blame my parents, who put me through two weeks of laptop-removal. Not that it helped (MADE IT WORSE MUCH?). So thanks Mom. Great work. :D


	4. The Scam Thing

Hey guysssss,

I'm feeling ABSOLUTELY DREADFUL (notice the posh language. I love it. not :D) today, which is why my writing might take a while, but I hope it won't make the story worse or something, because I finally have more than just the next chapter planned out. I have ALL OF IT planned out, man. Feels so good ;D

And yes, I'm sticking with the T rating, guys, but that doesn't necessarily have to mean anything. Possibly just for safety... or maybe more :3 Mua-ha-ha. You decide. I'm so evil :D not.

Sooo I'll just get straight to it, because, as you might have guessed, I'm not actually in the mood for hypertalk...

But ONE MORE THING: BIIIG THANKS to the reviewers. One word. Awesome. Or two. Awe-some :D hahahahaha (that was a really stupid inside-joke. Really. Stupid.) Enjoy :D

**Disclaimer (Or DOOOOOMclaimer):**

**Wellsies. I suppose it's no use crying over the fact that TS BELONGS TO MARATHON INC. AND NOT TO ME AND ALL THAT but hey, I still do. Such a rebel :D**

...

...

...

Surprisingly, my first emotion is relief. Because neither of them is actually naked. So they're not actually doing it. Well, okay, so Scam has his shirt off, which, come to think of it, is really extremely distracting, but hey, beggers can't be choosers, and at least they're not having sex. So I should not be complaining.

But then, of course (a little late, but at the ready), comes the horror. The disgust. Not at Scam's naked torso - nope, that's definitely not it - but at the make-out session that I happen to be a totally unwanted viewer of. It looks very passionate, too. Which actually makes me more disgusted. It's the little things, too - her hands, stroking his back, his, wound up in her auburn curls. But, even more, it's the way their eyes are closed in delight. That's what hurts the most.

At first, neither of them notice me, which just makes it that much more awkward, because I don't really want to clear my throat or anything, because then they would see me standing here, like a creep, which I probably am, and -

No. I definitely can't clear my throat.

As quietly as I can, I back away from the sofa, towards the door. One hand is already grasping the door handle when Scam slowly tears his lips away from Avery's. His eyes are half-open, not quite registering my presence as he gazes at me sleepily. Then, they widen in realization.

The smirk I know - and despise - so well grows on his face. I stare back at him in attempted defiance, but I'm pretty sure my expression resembles something more like a deer caught in headlights.

Meanwhile, Avery's eyes are still closed. She tugs on his neck and lets out a small moan. Scam ignores her, instead lifting one hand to his mouth.

Then.

Then.

Oh my God, then.

Then. He. Blows. Me. A. Kiss.

I blush fiercely, trying desperately to keep the redness at bay and failing miserably. He smirks, again.

Then, he bends down slowly, still looking at me. When his mouth is almost at Avery's neck, he opens it and gives me a quick wink. I stand there, rigid, unable to move, and maybe not even wanting to.

Scam bites down hard.

While Avery cries out with pleasure, I finally open the door quietly and let myself out.

...

...

...

It's only much later though, when I'm lying in bed with ragged breath and a crazy heartbeat, that I actually allow myself to think about what happened. Thousands of thoughts jumble up my brain, but from the chaos one rises over and over again - _Tim Scam just totally saved my ass._

And then, of course, there's the embarassment. At being seen, at reacting to Scam the way I did... But, most vividly, at still thinking about his naked upper body, and about his lips, and his eyes -

_Stop!_ I yell at myself mentally. I can't keep going like this. I tell myself it's the exhaustion of today, but I only half-believe it myself. Then again, I AM really tired...

Drifting off, I find myself back in the living room, this time watching the lovers on the sofa with invisible eyes.

Scam leans down and whispers words I can't hear into her ear. All I know is that they make her sigh with bliss. Scam rests his body on his elbows and studies her face. His sea-foam colored eyes are hazy with lust and with something more, something that makes my heart jump.

Then, he leans down again, his lips consuming hers. His hands are in her hair, strands twirled around his fingers.

But I notice something else, something that makes me start.

The hair intertwined with Scam's hands is not auburn. No, it's really, completely, definitely not auburn.

It's red, red, red. Red like fire.

And it's mine.

...

...

...

The thing is that I don't wake up. I keep dreaming. That's the terrible part, really. The dream doesn't even startle me that much, to be honest. The truth is that it's not a first time I've had a dream like this. Sure, the first few times they were... disconcerting, but now they've sort of turned into a regular thing. I try not to think about it too much.

Of course, they didn't just come out of the blue.

I've been having the dreams ever since The Thing happened.

...

_It's the 9th July, a few months over a year ago. It's the hottest summer in years, the sun turning Beverly Hills into a steaming landscape of empty streets. Everyone has locked themselves into their houses, where it's safe and cool, the air-conditioning turned up to a maximum._

_No._

_Not everyone._

_A few miles out of the city, three girls chase through an empty warehouse that is surounded by desert. Here, there is no air-conditioning at all. One of the girls, the blonde, leans against the wall of the corridor they were running through, coughing up dust and wiping the sweat from her moist brow. Her friend, a tan, dark-haired girl, slumps down next to her. The third one, a redhead, shake's the blonde girl's shoulders violently._

_"Clover," she says, trying desperately to make eye contact with her friend. "We're so close. Don't give up! You can't!"_

_The blonde mumbles something indicipherable and hits the back of her head against the wall in obvious frustration. Her friend leans in closer and attempts to pry open the girl's eyes, without much success. She blows a tendril of red hair that has escaped from her messy-looking ponytail out of her face and leans back. In a desperate attempt to get a reaction, she lifts her hand and slaps the blonde across the cheek. Her friend gasps, then opens her eyes. The redhead smiles in satisfaction, only to have her expression replaced by one of pure horror as the other girl's eyeballs roll backwards into her head and she loses consciousness, collapsing into Red's arms, who staggers, then kneels on the floor and lays her friend down, softly placing her head on the concrete floor._

_Red looks up when the third girl, the tan one, begins to shudder violently, her back slamming against the wall. Red covers her mouth with her hands. From the pocket of her emerald green full-body suit, she fishes something resembling a powder compact. She opens it to reveal a tiny, computer-like thing, and presses various buttons, gowing more and more desperate as the compact remains unresponsive. Red throws it against the wall in frustration, watching it shatter into pieces. She stands up and looks down at her friends, then down the dark, windowless corridor. Seemingly coming to a decision, she bends over, grabs the blondes shoulders and lightly shakes her._

_"Listen, Clover, hold on, okay? I'm going to finish this once and for all. For us, for the team. Okay?"_

_No response. Red nods curtly and squares her shoulders. Then she starts running along the corridor._

_..._

_Before long, Red approaches a small staircase. Grumbling, she makes her way up slowly, soon gasping for breath. Reaching the top, she pushes open a metal door, only to shield her eyes. She's on the roof of the warehouse, the sun reflecting off every open surface. Exhausted, she makes her way across the roof._

_In the middle of it stands a man. He's tall, muscular, the very image of male perfection. Red seems strangely electrified, but it's hard to tell in the glare of relentless sunshine. She stops a few feet away from him. The desert is silent and still, not one gust of wind on the dry plane of the roof._

_"Hello, Sam," the man says. His back is to her. "Where are your friends?"_

_"One on one," she shouts. Her voice sounds strange in the eerie silence, her breathing ragged._

_The man doesn't respond._

_"Where is it?" Red asks, her voice less aggressive now._

_He turns to face her, slowly, as if he had all the time in the world._

_"Unimportant," he answers. Just one word. But it seems to make her furious._

_"No! No games today, Scam," she yells. "My friends are unconscious, they need help! They need me. And I need information. Now!"_

_"They need you? Then why aren't you with them?" he asks innocently._

_Red closes the distance between them with a few steps. She glares up at him fiercely, looking slightly comical, her eyes at about the height of his shoulder._

_"You know why!"_

_He chuckles._

_"I do," he agrees. "I do know why. It's because, even though you love your friends, some strange force is pulling you towards me, constantly. And you're here, with me, because it's completely beyond your understanding. You want answers. Am I right?"_

_Red opens her mouth to argue, but he holds up one hand._

_"Am I right?" he repeats, staring at her._

_She presses her lips together and looks at her feet._

_"Why?" she mumbles. "Why you?"_

_The man looks down at her, his expression slightly lost. Then, he shakes his head quickly, like he's pulling himself together._

_"Oh, Samantha," he drawls, smirking. "I can promise you that you aren't the only one who feels this way. I have that effect on women. It's that thing about me. The idea that I might always do something dangerous. Something," - he tugs lightly on the tendril that hangs in front of her face - "unexpected," he finishes, and leans down._

_Then, his mouth is on hers, one arm looping around her waist._

_Red doesn't object. It's as if she was made for this, has been waiting for it all along. She returns his kiss with a passion that it seems he did not expect. His sea-foam colored eyes open wide for a second, then he closes them and presses against her hungrily. On the wide plain of the desert, their figures stand molded into one, both of them kissing with a certain desperation. Two lost souls on an empty warehouse roof, the sun burning their skin, making blood boil._

_Then Red collapses out of his embrace. The man towers over her, the needle in his hand glinting in the sunlight. He looks down on her huddled form sympathetically, then turns away, walking slowly towards the door that leads back into the warehouse._

_A few minutes later, a large helicopter with the letters WOOHP inscribed on one side lands on the roof. Medics rush out and into the warehouse to recover the two other girls before it's too late. An older man in a suit follows, hurrying to Red's side. He props her up and shakes her._

_"Sam?" he asks, concerned. "Can you hear me?"_

_A whisper escapes from her lips, then a moan of pleasure._

_"Scam."_

_The man shrinks back from her in surprise. Then, he seems to change his mind and looks her in the face._

_"It's our secret, then," he says quietly. "As long as it can be."_

_Red doesn't react. She's still mostly unconscious._

_The man places her arm over his shoulder and leads her back to the helicopter. The sun shines down from above, unchanged._

_Unchanged._

...

...

...

What just happened.

WOW.

Even I didn't expect it to turn out THAT intense.

I'm not even going to TALK about Scam.

Okay, I'm going to talk about Scam. Can't stop myself.

Hot or whatttttt? Crazytimes.

And also, JERRY? Wooooooooooooooot? He KNOWS?

I love calling it The Thing, by the way. It's so cryptic :D

I really really really hope you liked it. Man, that was something else! XD

So please review, and let me know what you thought.

I await your reviews with impatient excitement. Hehe.

Hearts from

TheLastPrototype.

Because I just do :D


	5. In Sickness And In Health

I feel bad. I have completely lost myself in this story. I wish I could continue my other TS story, or publish some of the ones I've been wanting to for AGES, but I just can't. Have to finish this one first. And it's gonna keep going for a loooong time; at least I think it is.

I'm sorry about the cliffie last time. Actually, I'm not, because I kinda love it :P But it WAS sort of mean of me, so I'm trying really hard to get this one done soon. And stuff. Except my exams are coming up, so I don't know how well that'll work out. Sorries.

Anyways, enjoy, as always :)

**Disclaimer Number Whatsisface:**

**I hate disclaimers. I really do. Why go around advertising that TS isn't mine? I'll tell you why. Because I'm scared of the Law. That's it :D Not such a badass now, am I ? XD**

...

...

...

The birds wake me before my alarm can go off. Funny how they don't seem to care about how it's winter and snowing and all. They just go ahead and sing anyway, like it's as warm as ever.

The sun shines through my window, reflected in the snow outside and becoming a thousand times brighter.

I yawn, stretching my arms over my head. The alarm says 7:15. It's all good.

I'm as awake as I could possibly be on a school morning. After the Scam-Avery-Me-Crap dream, I was actually able to sleep on undisturbed and dreamless for the rest of the night.

Now that I'm awake though, my thoughts aren't quite as peaceful anymore. Instead, they keep circling back to The Scam Thing, the last-summer-thing. The unmentionable thing. I hate thinking about it. The worst part is that I can't even remember anything after Scam knocked me out with that needle. Everything is this strange blur, up until the part where I woke up in the WOOHP headquarters, Alex and Clover's worried faces staring down at me.

I've played the whole Thing over and over in my head, painful as it is to remember, but it's no use. An hour or so of my memory is just... missing. Meaning I never knew where Scam disappeared to after he stuck the needle into my arm. To be honest, no one knew where he was. We were clueless, and it was all because of me. Scam was gone.

That is, he was gone... up until WOOHP agents discovered his hiding place. It wasn't too far from Beverly Hills, either. So strange. If I were him, I would have gotten the hell out of this place. Too dangerous. I just can't seem to figure out why he stayed.

Shaking my head quickly, I sit up. There's no point in beating myself up about it now. I walk towards my closet, opening the doors quickly and sorting through the neatly stacked clothes until I find what I was looking for. My all-time-favorite green knit dress, that I almost never wear because it's just too warm here. But not today.

I shower quickly and brush my teeth, then put on my clothes, deciding to just leave my hair flowing freely today.

As I walk into the kitchen, I smile to myself. The sun is shining, for once I'm not late for school and I'm wearing my favorite dress. Today is a good day. I hum as I get out a bowl and pour in cereal and milk.

Perching on a kitchen school, I try to eat my breakfast as quickly as possible. Maybe there's time for a quick coffee with the girls before class.

My back is to the kitchen door. His voice makes my whole body tense up.

"Eating alone?" he asks from behind me.

I turn around and stand up hastily, almost throwing over my bowl in the process. He smirks.

"What are you still doing here?" I demand angrily.

"I slept over," he says, shrugging, and makes his way over to the fridge. He opens the door and studies its contents, brow furrowed. "People do that, you know."

And that's when I register

that he's only wearing

a sleeveless shirt

and

boxers.

Oh.

My.

God.

My breath catches, and I fan myself frantically, gasping for air.

Scam turns around and stares at me, eyebrows raised.

"You okay?" he asks, with that voice. I. am. furious.

"Am I OKAY? There's a criminal in my house, with my family, DATING MY COUSIN! DO I SEEM OKAY TO YOU?"

Scam closes the fridge and walks towards me. I step backwards, but he's in between me and the door, so I'm pretty much cornered. He closes the distance between us and takes my shoulders in his hands, giving me a small shake.

"Samantha?" he asks. "Okay. Samantha. You need to take a deep breath now, all right?"

I think I look terrified. That's how I feel, anyway. And it must show, enough to worry a criminal. Ouch.

He's shaking me more violently now.

"Samantha, BREATHE!" he says.

So I breathe.

Scam sighs, lets go of me and takes a step back.

"Better?" he asks.

I nod. We stand there, awkwardly.

"Can you just get out?" I say quietly.

Scam shakes his head, looking slightly helpless.

"Samantha," he says. "I've been released from WOOHP, and I've met a girl. And I like her. And I can't just stop liking her because it makes you uncomfortable. But I'm not going to hurt her. I promise."

I can't look at him.

"Why Avery?" I ask him, staring at my feet. "Why did it have to be her?"

"Because. There's something about her," he explains, shrugging. "She reminds me of someone, I guess."

"So why can't you just be with... whoever she reminds you of?" I ask. I'm kind of desperate. I can't have him here. I just can't.

Scam smiles.

"Wouldn't work," he says, simply.

It's not enough. I need him to go.

"Why not?"

He laughs, but it sounds bitter.

"Who could love a monster?" he asks, not looking at me.

There's so many things I want to say, but they all feel wrong.

"Yes," I agree. "Who could?"

And I don't know what else to do. So I walk past him, out of the kitchen, out of the front door. Outside, I start running, past my car - no driving today. I don't stop until I reach the bus stop.

...

...

...

As expected, having Scam in my home is messing with my head. It shows, too. I've already started feeling sorry for him. I have to remind myself that this is the man who has killed so many people I have stopped counting, the man who has tried to kill ME before.

I need a dose of Clover and Alex realism.

The bus stops in front of the school, and I get off. Hurrying up to the front steps of Beverly Hills High, I check my watch. 8:20. I'm good.

I get out my phone and text the girls to meet me in the caf.

Five minutes later, we're all there. Clover gets out a piece of gum and sticks it in her mouth. It does not, of course, occur to her to offer one to her friends. SO Clover. Strangely enough, that doesn't annoy me, for once. It's the hint of normality that I need right now, to provide me with some sort of stability. Alex sits next to me, staring out the window and tapping her foot against the chair absent-mindedly.

"So, Sammie. What's the deal?" Clover asks, smoothing down her blonde hair with one hand. Alex says nothing.

"It's Scam," I say. "You're right. He's messing with my head."

I start in surprise when Alex stands up suddenly and actually looks at me for the first time this morning.

"Spy stuff, huh?" she says. "Don't see why I need to be here. Bye, girls. I gotta get to class. See you around."

She walks off slowly, cradling her bandaged elbow.

Clover stares after her, mouth slightly ajar, then turns to face me.

"Wow," she whispers. "What's up with HER?"

I sigh. This was supposed to be about Scam, not Alex. I just don't have time to read anything into her every move.

"I don't know," I say, shrugging. "Whatever, Clover. She's probably just having a bad day. Speaking of-"

"Yeah, yeah," Clover interrupts me, "Scam, Scam, Scam. I know. Listen, honey, I'm here for you, and all, but Alex was right. This is not a good time to miss class, with exams and all. I'll see you at lunch, okay?"

Without waiting for my answer, she gets up and shoulders her bag, hips swaying jauntily as she struts out into the corridor.

I massage my temples lightly, feeling a headache coming on. Why doesn't anyone understand how important this is? Jerry, Alex, and now Clover... none of them really seem to care about Scam's intrusion into my personal life. What is UP with the world? Has Scam brainwashed them all, or something?

I look at my watch again and jump up. I'm 5 minutes late for the exam, in addition to missing the one yesterday. I can't believe it. Just two days ago, school and missions were the most important thing on my mind, and I'm already forgetting about BOTH of them! What's happening to me?

...

...

...

When I get home, a full-blown headache now pounding inside my brain, I almost run into Avery, who's coming out of the house.

"Oh, hi, Sammie!" she says loudly.

I grimace. My head hurts to much to be nice to her right now.

"Oh, darling, are you not feeling well?" she gushes, taking my arm. "Just lay down on the couch for a bit. I already made some chicken soup - you can just take some. Isn't that crazy - Timothy is sick too! Well, I guess you can just keep each other company," she continues, smiling brightly.

I frown. How can she be this innocently happy? Scam said we used to date - is she not even the tiniest bit suspicious of just leaving the two of us here, together, alone?

"Where are you even going?" I ask her. I need to get some order into my mind.

For a second, Avery's smile freezes. Her eyes open wide, guilty. But then she's back, sweet as ever.

"Oh, an audition!" she says quickly. "Isn't that exciting? I mean, it's why I came to stay with you, after all: to pursue my acting career."

"Ah," I say weakly. I'm too exhausted to question her explanation. "Right."

"You'd better get inside," she tells me. "It'll start snowing again soon." And, with those words, she practically pushes me towards the front door. Shaking my head in annoyance, I get out my keys and open the it. When I turn around one last time, Avery is gone.

...

...

...

It feels like my head is breaking in half. I place one hand against the wall to steady myself and blink, trying to see something in the extreme darkness of the living room.

"Avery?"

His voice has lost some of its smoothness, now a lot more throaty and raw. A cold wave of goosebumps runs down my back.

"No," I whisper, but he still hears me.

"Samantha," he says quietly. His tone makes me want to cover my ears. In it, I detect a hint of disappointment, or exhaustion. I'm exhausting him.

I should go upstairs, right now. I should go upstairs, take some medicine, lock the door and go to bed. Ignore his presence, maybe. Pretend he's not here, that this situation is not the strangest thing that has ever happened to me. But I just can't.

He turns on the lamp next to the couch. I shield my eyes from the glare, even though the light is pretty dim. My head hurts.

Uncovering my eyes, I notice the familiar smirk on his face. I swear he didn't sound smirk-y before he turned on the light. He sounded a lot like he did this morning. How can a person's mood change so fast?

"So," he says, patting the space next to him. "Why don't you have a seat?"

I walk over and drop down onto the couch. Scam offers me the blanket that is draped over his legs. I decline. He's still wearing the same tank top he was this morning. I wouldn't be surprised if he only had on boxers. Pressing two fingers against my right temple, I reach over to the basket with blankets and take out a wine-red one for myself. I scooch over to the edge of the couch and prop up my feet so that I'm facing Scam. He turns, too, and we're basically sitting opposite each other. The tip of his foot nudges mine through the wads of cloth, and I pull mine away quickly. Scam smirks, again.

"What?" he asks innocently. "Are you really scared of my foot touching yours, Samantha? I thought you were - what was it? Right. Fearless." He continues sarcastically.

The pounding in my head slowly starting to receed, I nod.

"So did I," I say quietly. "I thought nothing you did could surprise me anymore. I thought you'd already done every possible thing."

"Oh, right," he says, chuckling. "The warehouse. That WAS brilliant."

I grimace, and nod.

"Yeah," I say. "Brilliant."

Scam looks away for a second, but when he turns back and stares me right in the face, his eyes are glinting.

"Oh, SaMANtha," he drawls, emphasizing my name, "you're not STILL upset about that, are you? I thought we were over your little crush by now."

My jaw drops.

"W-what?" I stutter.

"What did you think? That I didn't know about it? Oh please, Samantha, it was painfully obvious, really." He laughs quietly. "The blushing, the denial... and then the kiss. How could I NOT have known? What, was I supposed to think that you kissed me to get information, or something? Samantha, come on. We both know you don't have it in you to be that devious."

It hurts. Not that it's true, or anything, but it really hurts.

"Fine," I snap. "So I didn't kiss you to manipulate you. So I USED to be INEXPLICABLY attracted to you. So what? Firstly, that doesn't mean I had a CRUSH on you, and plus, it's not like I am anymore."

"Oh," Scam says, smirking devilishly. "So if I were to kiss you right now... you just... wouldn't respond?"

"That's exactly right," I say firmly.

Aprubtly, he reaches out and turns of the lamp. The room is black as night. I feel Scam's weight shifting on the sofa, then feel his breath close to my ear. As far as I can determine his position, he is right in front of me, his arms on either side my legs, holding up his body.

"Mind if I test that?" he murmurs.

"You wouldn't," I say, but of course he would, and we both know it.

"Well, we're both already sick, right? So there's really no harm in kissing."

I feel him reaching up, and then his palm is on my forehead. I hold my breath.

"See?" he says, and I can't see his smirk, but I can sure as Hell feel it. "A fever. So: no harm in kissing."

"No harm?" I squeak, hating myself for not being able to move.

"No harm," he begins, then moves closer, his lips hovering dangerously close above mine, "no... foul..."

My heart is beating at maximum speed, my limbs quivering in anticipation of the pressure of his mouth on mine.

He angles his face slightly, moves even closer, and... kisses the tip of my nose lightly.

I breathe out suddenly, practically blowing a gust of wind into his face. I blush fiercely as he chuckles and moves away to resume his position at the opposite end of the couch. Then he turns on the light.

I'm staring into his smirking face.

"Really, Samantha," he says in fake hurt, holding a hand to his chest, "did you honestly think I would kiss Avery's cousin? What kind of person do you think I am?"

"The bad kind," I mutter angrily, and he laughs.

"You're pouting," he exclaims, sea-foam colored eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Am not!" I throw back. Who does he think he is? I stand up quickly and bursh myself off.

"Oh no, Samantha, don't LEAVE!" he says, the laughter still in his voice.

I ignore him, heading towards the stairs.

"All right!" he shouts after me. "Be that way. We both know you wanted it!"

I run up to my room and throw myself backwards onto the bed, heart still pounding.

The worst part is that I think he might be right.

...

...

...

YEEEEEEHAWWWWW :D

Okay, so I guess you've realised by now that Sam conveniently does not remember the Jerry-part of the warehouse scene, so THAT confrontation will have to wait a bit.

HOWEVER, get ready for some major Scamantha, because I just love that, and also, of course, because I'm pretty sure it's only, like, the 7th of December in the story and everyone knows everything always escalates at Christmas. But HOW? Hmm, hmmmmm, hope that'll keep you reading.

Please review, for no other reason than because it will make an unsure writer very happy :) Lol at making myself sound like a loser. I probably am one.

Love from my newly painted and therefore extremely smelly room,

TheLastPrototype.


	6. SamScam

Bonjouuur!

Two words. SO. HYPER. Finally. I was beginning to think I'd turned into a mellow person. HELLO, NIGHTMARE?

So maybe this chapter will be... exciting? I don't know.

Anyways, from the reviews I take it you've been... guessing at the end of the story? BUT OH HELL NO! Good guesses. But nopey-dope.

I CAN'T WAIT TO GET TO A CERTAIN POINT BECAUSE I'VE ALREADY PLANNED WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN AND I SWEAR HELL IS BREAKING LOOSE IN BEVERLY HILLS OHMYGOD OHMYGOD OHMYGOD. Really. I swear :D

But taking that into account, STOP GUESSING :D or you'll possibly figure it out, and- and- nooooooooooooo! Don't do that, or you won't enjoy the storyyyy :) But, of course, I can't stop you, so feel free, if you want...

**Disclaimer:**

**TS? Mine? No.**

...

...

...

It's six days before I see him again.

Six days of strangely tedious schoolwork and strangely listless missions with a strangely focused Clover. Six days with a strangely silent Alex and a strangely absent-minded Jerry. Six days where it should feel like normality and structure have been brought back into my life, but instead, everything just feels... strange.

Avery is always out. Either she's seeing Scam, FAR AWAY from our house (maybe she's finally realised what the whole we-used-to-date thing means for their relationship), or she's at "auditions". She hasn't landed one single part yet, of course, but she seems strangely (STRANGELY) okay with that.

When I ask her how she can be this cool with things, Avery just shrugs.

"I have other stuff on my mind right now," she says, then smiles. "Don't worry about me, Sammie! You just do your thing!"

I have to bite my tongue to keep myself from telling her that I'm not worrying about her. That she is the LAST person IN THE WORLD I worry about. Seriously. But I don't say it. And that's lucky, because I really don't have the patience to deal with more of her drama right now.

Then comes the 13th of December. It's just like any other day, really. Except, of course, that it's totally not.

I'm sitting in the living room when the doorbell rings, comfortable in sweatpants, a bowl of popcorn on my lap.

"Sammie!" Avery calls from upstairs. "Would you mind getting that? I'll just be a minute."

Slouching, I get up, popcorn under one arm, the other reaching foor the door. And who else would it be? Of course this just had to be the day that he decided to pick her up for a date.

He looks amazing, too, which is just fantastic. Suit and everything.

"Nice pants," he says, raising one eyebrow. "Hi, Sam."

"Yeah, hi," I reply, and the pause that ensues is so awkward that I try for a half-assed joke. "What happened to Samantha?"

"I'm not quite sure what you mean," Scam says, looking slightly worried, like he thinks I'm on drugs or something.

"Oh, no, no, it's just... you always call me Samantha." It feels pathetic now that I have to explain it; it sounds like I'm some kind of control-freak-slash-perfectionist who needs everything to always stay the same. And, as I might have guessed, his eyebrows shoot up all the way to the ceiling.

"Oh... well, I suppose I could keep calling you Samantha, if it's that important to you..."

"It's not!" I reassure him, maybe a little too hastily, because it calls forth the Scam I know, the one who smirks, the devil personified. Well, at least it's not the awkward-pause-sad-looks Scam, because that side of him makes me sort of nervous.

"I just thought that, now that we've kissed TWICE... it would be appropriate for me to call you Sam. Or do you prefer Sammie?" asks mean-Scam, his tone suggestive, eyes glinting. I close the door behind me with a bang.

"That was NOT a real kiss!" I hiss at him, adding a little shove for good measure, just to get my point across. It's not very effective.

"You know, Sammie," he says, taking one step closer to me, "if you wanted to touch me so badly, you could have just asked." He's so close that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. To be honest, I am grateful for it - now that I'm no longer standing halfway in the warmth of the house, the night is just as cold as was to be expected from the snow, and I'm only wearing a tank top.

His eyes are forlorn as he glances at my shivering arms.

"You're so cold," he murmurs. "I can see your goosebumps."

I'm pretty sure those are not from the cold.

Scam lifts one hand, absently brushing a loose strand of hair from my bun out of my face. He's wearing the same expression now that he was that afternoon on the warehouse roof. It makes me sad, and that terrifies me beyond anything. I try to steer our conversation back to its previous teasing playfulness.

"So... I suppose, if you're going to call me Sammie, I'll call you... Timmy?"

His head snaps up, and in his eyes there is something that is close to heartbreak, masked by blind rage.

"Don't you EVER," he snarls, bearing his teeth, "call me that again."

At that moment, the door is flung wide open, so far that I need to step forward, almost bumping right into Scam, who glares at me and takes a step back. Avery shimmers in the snowy night like an ancient goddess, the warm yellow light from the corridor casting unnatural shadows on the clean-cut planes of her face, highlighting the cascades of her now almost golden-looking hair and toning her long dress that is the colour of the snow that falls in intricate flakes onto our eyelashes, drawing soft curtains across our sight.

"Lovers' quarrel?" Avery asks, laughing. I stare at her, while Scam mutters something I do not care to repeat under his breath. Avery looks taken aback.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she adds quickly. "I was just making a joke, but it seems that was inappropriate..."

To my surprise, Scam is the first to catch himself, smiling tightly at Avery.

"No, not at all," he says. "Sam was just saying how happy she is for us."

"You were?" Avery asks incredulously, and I feel like I can almost detect a hint of disappointment in her voice, for whatever reason that might be.

"I was," I repeat slowly, looking only at him, but Scam turns away from me before I can see his face.

"Shall we go?" he asks, impatient.

As they make their way down the driveway towards a sleek black car that must be Scam's, he calls half-heartedly over his shoulder: "By the way, nice pants."

I walk inside and close the door behind me, leaning my forehead against the dark wood.

"You already said that," I whisper, and I sure as hell hope that the water under my eyes is just melted snowflakes.

...

...

...

It's on the night of the 15th December that I decide that things can't go on like this. I need to know what Scam's playing at, whether he's even playing at all. Maybe it's just me, not wanting to believe that he really likes Avery. But why would I even want to believe that? It obviously isn't because I want him to myself, because I don't, of course... So what is it? Is it just that I can't stand seeing her happy, seeing THEM happy, when I'm so clearly lost?

One way or another, I need to know. I have to talk to him, alone. But, as much as it pains me to say, I need to talk to sad-Scam, not smirky-Scam, because I keep getting the strange feeling that the smirks are an excuse... I have to talk to him. As soon as possible.

Avery wakes me up the next morning, her hair tickling my face as she leans over me.

"Sam, honey? You're friend is here to see you. The blonde one."

Clover.

"She looks impatient."

Crap.

Jumping out of bed, I rush to pull on some sports clothes and run down the stairs.

"Hey," I say, trying to smile at Clover, who is visibly fuming in front of my eyes. "What's up?"

"Sam!" she screeches, "are you mental? Jerry and I have been beeping you since last night!"

My body goes rigid as my mother puts a hand on my shoulder from behind.

"Oh, hello, Clover," she says politely, then looks at me, frowning. "Who's Jerry?"

"Uh, hi, Mrs. Simpson," Clover says brightly, jumping in while I stutter an excuse. "Jerry is... our lab partner. Our presentation is on Monday, as in... tomorrow, so we thought we should go over some details over coffee today. But Sammie here," she says, punching my shoulder, seemingly affectionate, so hard that it hurts, "just didn't feel like answering her phone. I'm actually here to pick her up," she finishes, full of pride at how good of a liar she is. Oh well.

I turn to my mother and nod quickly, not looking her in the eyes.

"Oh," she sighs, relieved, "in that case, you should probably get going, before... um, Jerry... gets fed up and leaves."

"You're completely right. Bye!" Clover pulls me outside by my sleeve ans slams the door behind me.

"Clover, I'm-" I start, but she cuts me off.

"Whatever, Sam," she huffs, annoyed, "let's just go."

...

...

...

"So, you girls are all clear on your mission?" Jerry asks, not looking at me. Clover nods enthusiastically.

"Can we just go now?" I mumble, bored by the strangeness of everything.

The trap door opens below us, and then I'm hurtling around underground. Clover and I are spit out by a trash can, somewhere in the Italian countryside.

Clover stands up, red boots tapping impatiently as I shift into a sitting position on the ground.

"If my calculations are correct, the guy we're looking for should be... right in that... house." Her jaw drops as the gazes at the mansion that she was turning her back to before. I raise an eyebrow.

"If he's that rich... why would he steal diamonds?"

Clover shakes her head quickly, as if trying to stop being starstruck by her dreamhouse.

"No idea," she says then, all business, "but that's not really up to us to find out, is it? We're just here to catch him."

"Uh, yeah," I say, hesitantly. Where did this Clover come from? "I guess..."

She holds out her hand and pulls me up. Her suit is cold. I let go of her, fast, and she looks away, embarassed.

"Why are you so cold?" I ask, then realise that it can have more than one meaning. Well, good. Both meanings fit.

Clover takes up the easier version of my question: "Oh, it's just this new function Jer installed into my spy suit, makes it colder and stuff. You know. To keep me focused."

"But doesn't it hurt? Freezing all the time, I mean." I say. I can't believe Clover would agree to do something like this to herself.

She shrugs.

"Now that Alex is out, Jer needs me point-sharp at all times. This helps."

"Wait!" I hold up one hand, staring at her. "What do you mean, Alex is 'out'? She's coming back as soon as her arm heals, right?" Clover looks at her feet, wringing her hands. Then she raises her eyes, that are grey and dull, not the sparkling blue they used to be.

"We need to go," she says, and starts running towards the mansion, feet pounding the cement, leaving me behind. I shake my head and follow her.

When Clover reaches the back wall of the house, she pushes a combination of buttons on her belt. A grapple shoots upwards out of it, spiraling towards the roof. I cast a doubtful glance at my own grapple-belt while Clover hauls herself upwards. Hers seems to be a newer, more efficient and safer version.

"Sam, get up here," Clover calls, not looking at me. I shrug and copy her movements, but no matter how fast I climb, Clover is much faster.

"When did THIS happen?" I ask when I'm finally standing next to her on the roof, breathing hard.

"I've been training," she answers, already opening her X-Powder. I shield my eyes against the blinding light that surrounds her body as her suit changes from cherry-red to a dreary grey. Wrinkling my nose, I choose a deep-black suit. It makes me look at least sort of exciting, standing next to Clover. When did she stop caring about clothes?

We climb into the house through the skylight, which Clover opens expertly, using a gadget that I'm pretty sure Jerry never gave ME.

It's almost too easy, finding the man we're looking for. He's sitting at a large computer, his back to the door, when we slip into the room. He looks like some sort of tech-freak, all geeky glasses and a two-day-shadow on his chin and cheeks. Well, we've certainly dealt with guys like him before, like when we battled that crazy computer virus.

Clover is bolder than me, moving instantly to cover his mouth, while I follow and cuff his hands. The man mumbles something against her hand.

"What's that?" I ask, frowning.

"Please, don't kidnap me!" he pleads. "You don't understand. I'm part of the World Organization of Human Protection! They'll catch you!"

"What?" I say, disbelieving.

"Don't listen to him, Sam!" Clover grabs the guy and heads for the door decisively. "You're coming with us, Sir," she hisses at him.

"Sam?" he says, and struggles to free himself of Clover's iron grip to stare back at me. "Samantha Simpson?"

One of his hands points limply at the computer screen as Clover grabs a fistful of his hair to yank his head back to her.

I turn and look at the screen, searching for what he could have meant. In the right upper corner, some files are being uploaded to some kind of main database. My eyes are glued to one folder in the middle, dated back to two weeks ago.

It's the name of the folder that keeps me staring, my brain slowing, the whole world a blur.

'Sam/Scam'

...

...

...

Ooooooooooooooooooooooh no I didn't :D

I just love cliffies.

Anyway okay so I'm speeding things up a bit, trying to move the plot forward. Working?

Do you want me to write a confrontation between Sam and Scam, because I'm not too sure yet, whether I really want her confronting him. Review and tell me, please.

I'm so happy people are enjoying this story, hopefully I can throw Avery out of the picture soon...

Anyone feel sorry for Alex?

The world's all hearts today.

TheLastPrototype.


	7. Just A Dream

Ohhhhh, the dreaded 7th chapter. Hope the cursed 7 won't make my writing bad (hahaha, just kidding, I'm not superstitious).

Aaaanyways, I don't want to keep you too long, but I wanted to apologize for the time it took me to put up Chapter 6... I was swamped in schoolwork, then I was travelling, and long story short, it took way longer than I hoped. That's why I'm trying to make number 7 extra-good and extra-long to make up for it :D

Oh, and thank you so much for all the reviews, again. More than 10 now, I believe. That's great, keep going, please, it lets me know you like the story. I also really do appreciate constructive criticism. Seriously :D

**Disclaimer:**

**... This is becoming tedious. TS is not mine, it belongs to Marathon Inc. But if you've read the previous chapters, you should probably know that by now. Unless you're suffering from memory loss. In that case, my condolences. Okay. That's it.**

...

...

...

"Sam, it doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to," Clover huffs as she drags me towards the WOOHP jet by my arm.

"What, so you're saying I should just ignore the fact that my name - AND SCAM'S - were on a criminal's database? Why didn't you let me open it, anyway?"

"I TOLD you," Clover says slowly, as if I were stupid or something, "we're not doing anything before we talk to Jerry about this."

"Speak of the devil," I murmur as Jerry hurries towards us from the jet's open exit. Clover's face brightens, but our boss doesn't even look at her.

"Sam! Are you all right?" Jerry asks, looking less concerned, more... worried?

"Uh, yeah, sure," I answer, studying his face closely. In the past week it feels like Jerry has become a stranger to me, not the man I used to care about like a father, a much better father than the one who left my Mom when she was pregnant. Now, he's less trust, more guilt. Less Jerry, more stranger. Everyone is a stranger to me these days. Is it really them, though, or is it me? Before I can confront Jerry, however, Clover jumps in, eager to please.

"Jer, ," she babbles in a single breath, ignoring my dagger-sharp looks of the 'shut-up-damn-it' variety. Jerry seems taken aback, extremely sincere.

"Oh, Sam!" he says, laying an arm around my shoulders comfortingly and leading me towards the jet. "You poor thing! We'll start questioning him as a suspect right away."

When I look back over my shoulder, Clover stands alone, rigid, on the wide space of the landing strip, the shine of her blonde hair much less radiant than it used to be. And I can't help but feel like that's somehow, for some reason, totally my fault. The worst thing is that I have no idea how to make it better, because this Clover is just as much of a stranger to me as the rest of the world.

...

...

...

When I get home, I stand in front of my phone, lying innocently on my make-up-table, screen facing upwards, for a long while, before I decide to take a risk, pick it up and dial Alex's number.

"Hello? Who is this?" she sounds so normal, so Alex-ish, that I almost break out into tears right then and there.

"Alicia? Is that you?" she asks, and I choke on my own breath. Who is Alicia? Has Alex gone and found herself new friends already? Were we that disposable?

"Okay, Leesh, listen: Is this about Mike? Because you know I never liked him anyway. You're better off without him," her voice sounds sympathetic, motherly, the exact same way she used to talk to me when I was having guy troubles. I make a strangled sobbing noise, accidentally, but she reacts anyway.

"Oh my God, Leesh!" she screeches, then takes a few hurried breaths. "Okay, I'm coming over. You need support. See you in ten."

"Alex, wait!" I yell before she can turn off the phone. It comes out way too loud, almost angry. Alex's voice is timid when she speaks.

"Sam?" It's like we're completely different people. I just don't know what to say to her.

"Alicia," I state, my frown clearly showing in my voice. Alex sighs.

"Can you blame me?" she asks. Then, silence. I look at the phone's display - she hung up on me. The line is dead.

Teeth churning, I sit down on the bed. There's a knock on the door, and Avery sticks her head in. Even without make-up, she looks gorgeous. It's extremely aggravating.

"Oh my God, Sammie! What's wrong? Do you want me to get Gabby?"

I shake my head and make a shooing motion with my hand, which she chooses to ignore. Instead, my cousin barges in and jumps onto my bed, hugging one of the fluffy green pillows to her chest.

"Oooh, this is so much fun!" she gushes. "It's like we're girlfriends, Sammie! So, what're we talkin' 'bout?" I rub my temples and close my eyes.

"Oh God," I say, more to myself than to her, "this can not be happening."

"What is it, Sam?" Avery asks slowly, strangely composed. And somehow, that's what makes it all come flooding out.

"You want to know what the problem is? Fine! The PROBLEM is that YOU seem to be my BEST FRIEND right now. My ONLY friend. There's no one else left, Avery. There's no one."

She doesn't say anything. She just gets up and leaves, shutting the door quietly behind her. Around a minute later, there's a knock.

_Is it strange to know by the way a person knocks on the door, that it's them? To just... feel it?_

"Samantha," he says, and his voice sounds distant, not just because of the ebony of the door between us. My name from his mouth is not my name. It's a poem, a song, the notes pulling me ever closer, a poem, a song, Samantha.

"Sammie," he tries again, and there's a smile in his voice this time. Not a smirk. A smile. I know this smile. It's the sun in the winter, reflected in the snow crystals like a million tiny mirrors, forming a blinding spectrum of light. And it's contagious.

"Sam." Barely a whisper. I break out into a cold sweat, my hairs standing on end. My body is electrified. Third time's a charm.

"Okay. Open up now." And I do. I don't know why. It's Electrified Sam acting, not me, not the old me. That me is still shielding her eyes from the dizzying light.

He walks past me into the room like he owns it. Who knows, maybe he does. The world's going crazy as it is. My room might as well belong to him. Nothing makes sense. _None of it makes sense._ I cling onto this thought for dear life, like it's some kind of raft that will keep me afloat in the tidal wave that seems to have taken everyone and pulled them under, under, as far away from me as it gets.

"It doesn't make sense, does it?" He sounds unsure, confused. The rational part of me - remember? The one shieldind her eyes? - knows exactly what he's talking about. He's talking about us; not about me, not about my life. And yet, the suspicions come flooding in ten times stronger than ANY flipping tidal wave. It all just fits a little too well for comfort. Watch out now, Scammie. Electrified Sam's long gone. Here comes Miss Furious.

"Oh, my GOD! How did I not think of this before? It was YOU! Of COURSE it was you. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. I'm so STUPID!"

He's not looking at me. I'm not sure he even heard me. He's staring out the window, at the curb, where the beautiful snow has turned into some sort of murky brown slush. It's still Miss Furious here though. It's all pretty clear to her. He's not listening. So I just have to make him.

The next thing I know, my fists are on his back, his arms, his head; anywhere's good. I'm letting out more than just one week of frustration. Where does the week stop and the years begin?

Scam clearly wasn't expecting me to jump him like this. Instead of fighting back, he lifts up his hands to protect himself from my crazy-girl ambush.

"Hey, hey, stop! When Avery said you were having a mental breakdown and she didn't know what to do, I was expecting tears, not" - he lifts up one of my balled fists and stares at it with a certain kind of wonder - "punches."

"She said I was having a MELTDOWN?" I shriek, my mind having now completely short-circuited.

"Well, no. I believe what she said was 'breakdown'. Of the mental variety."

Roaring, I pick up something - a picture? A glass figure? A book? No idea - to hurl it at the wall, then stop short, dropping whatever it was onto the floor.

"Wait, and she asked _you_ to help console me?" I ask incredulously.

"Precisely what I was referring to when I said it made no sense," he says, nodding to himself.

"Oh," I say weakly and sit down on the floor. How embarassing. Then again... at least I got some of my anger out, even if it was just a misunderstanding.

He barely notices my sudden change of temper.

"I don't know, Sam, I don't know," he murmurs, and my heart jumps. Just a little, though. He runs a hand through his hair. He's still not looking at me.

"I have to think," he says curtly. He doesn't shut the door behind him when he leaves. The air from outside my room is cold. I want to go and close the door before I freeze. But my body just won't listen.

...

...

...

I dream that night. I dream of Jerry and Alex. And Scam.

_He was standing right behind me, hands on my bare shoulders. It was dark, and we were in some kind of closed space. Usually, I'm a bit claustrophobic, but the walls weren't closing in on us at all this time. His breath was in my neck. I wasn't scared of him. Not one bit._

_I was scared of something else; and I wasn't just scared. I was terrified._

_Light streamed into the room - /closet/? - through a crack right in front of my face. As my eyes adjusted to the brightness, I realised with a start that I was staring into Jerry's WOOHP office. We weren't alone, either._

_"Jerry!" It was Alex, bursting into the room and fuming in the doorway. "Don't you DARE walk away from me!"_

_Scam chuckled, and I elbowed lightly in the gut to silence him, but I couldn't help smiling to myself. There was the Alex I knew, my feisty best friend. And she was on fire today - it was like sparks were flying off her._

_"Jerry," she repeated, hands on her hips, "don't turn your back on me, old man. I deserve to be looked in the eye."_

_Up until now, Jerry had been in some corner of the room that I couldn't see from my compromised position, but now he walked over and stopped right in front of Alex, who glared up at him with undisguised menace. But, more than that, I thought I could see hurt and betrayal in her eyes._

_"Why?" she asked, her voice cracking. "I mean, I understand that you fired me - I should have quit, you know? That would've been the right thing to do - but Sam? Sammie? What the HELL" - here, she pushed his chest vehemently; not, of course, that it had an effect. Jerry was in excellent shape - "did she ever do to you?"_

_"Nothing," Jerry told her. "Sam did nothing to me." His eyes were desperate as he stared at her._

_"You have to understand - I had no choice! She was just... collateral damage. It was Scam that mattered!"_

_Alex shook her head in defeat._

_"I can't believe that she means so little to you, after all these years. You really don't care about any of us, do you?"_

_Jerry shook her shoulders in frustration._

_"Alex, of course I care about you. About YOU! Can't you see? I did this for US! Scam couldn't be free - he wanted to destroy everyone I love. And, last time I checked, that meant you," he finished, shoulders slumped._

Us?_ I thought. _You? What?

_My inner confusion turned into total mind-chaos seconds later, when Alex' face softened. She took Jerry's chin in one hand and turned his eyes up towards her._

_"Why do you always do this?" she breathed, but her eyes were warm and brimming with tears. "Why do you mess with my head like this? Don't you know I can take care of myself?"_

_Jerry nodded, his own eyes wide. My body stiffened in Scam's grasp, that now moved to grip my elbows tightly to keep me from moving and exposing our hiding place._

_And then she was kissing him._

_And then I was screaming._

_And then Avery was there, her face suddenly filling my vision, laughing and tapping me on the nose with her finger._

_"Don't worry about me, Sammie," she sang, "I keep myself busy."_

I wake up sweaty and screaming, my throat raw. My mother is sitting next to me on my bed and takes my head in her lap. She strokes my hair, slowly and rhythmically, trying to calm me down.

I'm anything but calm.

"Don't worry, darling," she murmurs. Her voice is silk. "It was just a bad dream."

There are tears drenching her skirt. They're mine.

"Just... a bad... dream," she hums.

Was it?

...

...

...

Oh hell yeah. I went there.

Then again, it was just a dream, right?

Review and let me know what YOU think. I need opinions, people! :D

SamScamokaytoday? Moremoremore of them next chapterrrrrr. Hint: His lips are rough and soft at the same time, okay? HINT HINT!

Wasssssssuppppp with Avery? What's happening there?

Stay excited, stay reading & stay happy, guys.

Kisses.


	8. Liars, Fires And My Deep Dark Desires

Hey there!

8 is my favorite number. So this is a SPECIAL chapter.

For everyone's information (including mine. I'm soo bad at keeping track of time in a story!), it is now the 17th of December in the story. I know that, in the second chapter, I said it was the 12th December, but I was wrong, and it was actually the 6th. All the other dates are correct. Sorry.

Up front, I wanted to say thank you all so much for the reviews again. And Y.E.S., Cresenta's Lark, I WILL incorporate the hint.

Shit's about to hit the fan :D I'm serious. We all know a kiss is ALWAYS the turning point.

But... the turning point to what?

Read. And. Find. Out.

**Disclaimer:**

**I disclaim the rights to TS. They go to Marathon Inc.**

**Is that how you use the verb disclaim? Really?**

**Nevermind.**

* * *

><p>Alex' father opens the door at the third ring.<p>

"Hi, Sam," he says, smiling down at me. Wow. I had forgotten that her dad's _crazy_ tall.

"Uh... hi," I mumble, suddenly shy. "Is Alex home?"

It's as if rainclouds are closing over his face. He takes me by one shoulder and guides me into the house, carefully, but firmly. The walls are covered in a new coat of paint, and the smell burns in my nostrils, making me sneeze. When we reach the kitchen, he lets me go and motions for me to sit down in one of the chairs. I take a seat, kneading my hands nervously in my lap.

"Okay, Sam," he says, pacing from side to side. "Listen. It's crucial that we understand each other. Alex is the most important thing in the world to me, and I don't know what's wrong with her, or whether you have anything to do with it... Listen, I've always liked you, Sam. You seem so... mature, you know? If you have any idea what's upsetting Alex, I hope you'll talk to her. Listen, Sam, I want to believe that you have nothing to do with whatever is making her act unlike herself, but I'm just not sure what to think right now. If you hurt my little girl... listen, don't, Sam, all right? Just- just don't."

I know it sounds heartless, but after his speech... all I can think is: _Wow. He says 'listen' a LOT._

Yeah, sure, it's pretty touching that he's so concerned about Alex, but... as soon as he mentioned my possibly having something to do with her behaviour, I just tuned out. I'm not going to sit her and be lectured by someone who seems to want to ask for my help and tell me off at the same time. Anyway, I'm not here for him. I'm here for Alex.

"Could you send her down, please?" I ask politely, not looking at him.

He must have nodded, though, because the next thing I know, he's gone and Alex is pushing open the kitchen door instead. Neither of us says anything as she pulls up a chair and sits down opposite me, our knees almost touching. The wooden legs make a horrible screeching sound as she drags the chair over the kitchen tiles. When she sits down, I realise that the silence is worse.

_But what am I supposed to say?_

"Sam," she frowns.

_I can't do it. I can't ask you._

"..."

_Are you._

"Sam?"

_Sleeping._

"Is this about Alicia? Because I can explain."

_With._

"She's so... she's so normal, Sam."

_With._

"And when I'm her friend, I get to be normal, too, you know?"

_With._

"Don't you see? I just couldn't be friends with you and Clover anymore."

_With._

"Without WOOHP... let's face it. We don't have a whole lot in common. You two are... WOOHP to me."

_With._

"And after I was let go... I couldn't be around you anymore. Everything about you reminds me of WOOHP, even now."

_With._

"Is this because I didn't fight harder to stay? Sam, say something!"

_With._

"You know, maybe it was... for the best, Sam. Not everything about WOOHP is great."

_With_.

"Say something."

_Jerry?_

"No!" It comes out louder than I expected. I'm almost yelling at her. Not that I was really responding to HER question.

Alex' eyes fill up with tears. She nods.

"Okay. Okay, Sam. Okay."

I don't know what to say. I shake my head wildly, red hair flying into my eyes. Alex doesn't even notice. She keeps talking, a trance-like expression dulling her sharp features.

"This is what you want? Okay. Okay, Sam. This is what I meant, see? We weren't made to be friends, okay? Okay. Okay, okay, Sam, go now, okay?"

I just keep shaking my head. A numb feeling spreads from my fingertips, blanketing my chest.

She pushes me. Alex is strong. I know she's strong. We've trained together, fought together for so long. Now she's fighting me. Or is she?

She pushes me out the door. Along the corridor. Out of her house; I don't argue. The numbness has silenced my vocal chords.

We stand facing each other, her crying, me numb. Then she slams the door in my face.

* * *

><p>I get home fuming. The numbness has receded, giving way to rage and... hopelessness. Also, I've lost my keys. Which is just absolutely fantastic. Really.<p>

I ring the doorbell ceaselessly for at least two minutes before Avery opens the door. Having gotten to a point at which I am practically punching the bell with my fist, I glare up at her smiling face.

"Oh! Hi, Sammie!" she grins. "This is so funny! I was actually just on my way out!" I take a step back and stare at her.

"With Scam?" I ask.

"No. And I really would appreciate it if you stopped calling him that, thank you." She almost looks annoyed. It's strangely gratifying. She tries to walk past me, but I block her way and force her to look me in the eyes.

"Then _who_?" I inquire insistently. "Come on, Ave. I know it's not auditions. I'm not stupid! Smart cousin, remember?"

"Well, I guess you're not as smart as I thought you were," Avery says sharply, pushing past me forcefully. I turn around and raise my eyebrows at her tone, rubbing my sore arm from where she shoved me aside roughly. Avery shakes her head as if to clear it, but the ensuing smile is totally and completely fake. "Relax, Sam," she says, "it's not like I'm the type of girl with a lot of secrets."

"I don't know," I say slowly.

"What, are you worried, or something?" she asks, smirking suddenly. It's a smirk I remember from her wild days. Suddenly I realise that, even though I hate my cousin, I missed her like hell. I almost smile, but then Avery continues.

"Don't worry about me, Sammie," she

sings.

"I

keep

myself

busy."

She's gone before I can move. Then, again, I don't think I could have moved anyway. I'm frozen.

* * *

><p>I bang the door behind me and sink into a seated position, running my hands through my hair and making it stand up on edge.<p>

"Whatthehellishappening?" I whisper, then repeat it, shouting.

She's scaring me. Everything scares me nowadays. But that deja-vu moment was insane. Is it possible that I really did dream about Avery saying that just last night? _What would that even mean?_

My thoughts are interrupted by a curt knock. I rise to open the door warily. I don't even blink when I see who's on the other side. Of course it'd be him. It's always him, every time I'm on the verge of a meltdown.

"Scam," I state, crossing my arms. A beat later, I realise I must look like a crazy person, my face flushed, eyes wide from screaming, and wild, wild hair. I move a hand to smoothe it down unconsciously.

"Hi, Sam," he says, trying to smile. Again, no Samantha, no Sammie. I'm not special enough for special names anymore. The thought stings. "Do you think I could speak to your cousin?" It's only a second later that I realise that he's wringing his hands. I was so self-absorbed that I didn't even notice the rings under his worried eyes. Maybe something's wro- _No,_ I scold myself. _You're done with being concerned about him._

"Avery's not home," I say flatly, trying to look as bored as possible. Not that it's necessary. Tim isn't paying any attention to me whatsoever. He runs a hand over his eyes and stares at me, almost pleadingly.

"Do you know where she went?" he inquires. It sounds too much like begging for my taste.

"No. Sorry."

I move to close the door when he suddenly reaches out and holds a hand up to stop me.

"Sam," he begins desperately, moving closer, "please listen-" I have a feeling that I don't want to hear what he's about to say - not that I know what it is. But still. This is really strange; Tim Scam begging me for anything... I try to turn away, but he pushes himself against the door until he's standing in the dimly lit corridor. Tim makes a lurch for me, grabbing my shoulder and turning me around, while I look aside guiltily. He grips my chin, forcing me to meet his piercing gaze, and takes a deep breath, while I stare at him, terrified.

"Sam, is Avery cheating on me?" he asks.

_- the hell?_

* * *

><p>I shift on the sofa, uncomfortable. It's no wonder, really. I never thought I'd be in this position - me, giving relationship advice to TIM SCAM? About my cousin, no less...<p>

We're sitting next to each other awkwardly, both staring at the floor, hands gripping the edge of the couch. Neither of us knowing what to say. Well, why would we? This is probably the weirdest situation I've ever found myself in - and that coming from an agent at WOOHP, meaning that I deal with a whole lot of weird criminals on a daily basis.

Even so, this is majorly strange. And, to be completely honest, I'm sort of freaking out. Also, I am painfully aware of all the places where his thigh is grazing mine.

"You're cousins, so... you're close, right? Has she said anything to you?" he asks, not looking at me. My grip on the sofa tightens.

"Uh, we're not that close, really," I manage to stutter. Okay, full disclosure. I'm not sort of freaking out. I am TOTALLY. FREAKING. OUT.

Tim looks confused.

"That's weird," he murmurs, wrinkling his forehead, "Avery told me you were like sisters."

"What?" I say, very intelligently. Not.

"Yeah," he continues, turning towards me now. I still can't bring myself to look at him, though. "She said you two tell each other everything. Which is why she was so surprised to find out we used to date, apparently." He smirks absent-mindedly at the memory of that disaster. It seems so far away to me now, even though it was only a little less than two weeks ago. Who would have thought we'd end up here, like this?

"We don't tell each other anything," I answer quickly, stopping myself from reminiscing about Tim Scam, because that's just weird. Maybe I've said it a little too quickly though, because Scam seems to take it as me trying to cover something up.

"Sam," he says, making me turn to look at him in surprise. There's a lot of sadness in his voice. His stare makes me feel guilty, like I'm betraying him, which is, of course, completely crazy, since, firstly, I'm not even lying to him, and, secondly, I really don't owe him the truth, anyway. "Sam. Please. If she told you something, it's my right to know."

"God," I snap, annoyed, jumping up to glare at him, hands placed firmly on my hips in an angry sort of position, "I told you I don't know anything! WE DON'T TALK, okay? Least of all, about," I hiss, taking a deep breath for dramatic effect, "YOU!"

Scam flinches and looks away, but then turns back towards me, his eyes narrowed.

"Why not?" he asks.

"What?" I say absent-mindedly, still complimenting myself inwardly for my performance. I thought that was pretty cool, right?

"Why would you talk about me any less than you would about anything else?" His suspicious tone annoys the hell out of me. It's like he thinks I have something to hide, when the truth is just so obvious.

"Because you're..." I throw my hands up in frustration, unable to find the right words, "... you! I don't know. I can't explain it. It's- you know. It's WEIRD."

Scam lays his head to one side, a thoughtful expression on his face. I sigh. Can't he just cut the crap? It's not like I've said anything new... right?

"Why would it be weird?" Oh my God. He doesn't know. He hasn't noticed. Shit.

I shake my head quickly.

"No reason. It just is, I guess."

I sit down again quickly, on the chair in front of my desk this time. We're facing each other, but I can't look him in the eyes. He isn't buying it. But I'm pretty good at this - I'm not out of explanations.

"Because, you know, I know that you used to be a criminal, and stuff, and it would be weird to hear her gushing about you and having to keep it a secret that you've killed so many people.

"Oh," he says. He sounds taken aback, like I've slapped him. Was that hurtful? But it's just the facts, right? I still can't look at his face, though, so it's hard to be sure of his reaction. Then: "I suppose you are right, Samantha. It would be, as you say, weird."

_Samantha_. I can't really describe how it makes me feel to hear him call me that again. It's like a chain of emotions, all within a matter of seconds. At first, my heart is lifted up, up, up. Then I'm back on the ground and I'm not sure whether him calling me that is actually a good thing. I remember all the other times he's called me Samantha. The day of the kiss, he did, and, thinking of it, my blood starts pumping faster. It's like I'm back on the roof. But then, I think of other Samantha-moments. He's called me that every time I've been too late, when I've had to watch him escape, the blood of the corpses pooling around my feet. He called me that when he told me he was dating my cousin. And there my heart goes again; down, down, down, this time.

"Wait, she gushes about me?"

"What?" I ask, snapping out of my thoughts, only to remember what I told him. "Out of all that, the only thing you got was that Avery GUSHES about you?"

"Well-" he begins, but I interrupt him, fuming.

"It's like you don't even care about anything I've said. Even after YOU show up here, asking ME for help because you think she's CHEATING on you, all you can THINK about is what she's saying about you? What kind of a JERK-"

"Whoa, whoa," he says, holding up his hands to slow me down, but achieving the opposite effect. He's making me feel like a child, and it's making me A.N.G.R.Y.

"What KIND of a JERK," I repeat sharply, breathing heavily and taking a few steps towards Scam, so that I'm now practically yelling down at him, "doesn't even CARE about how other people feel? I thought you'd CHANGED, but you're JUST the same. No, no, you're WORSE!" I'm on a roll. Nothing can stop me now. Except for this.

He rises suddenly, so that my eyes are now on the level of his chest and shoulders. I raise my glare, despising him for making my do it, and see that something has hardened in his face.

"And how exactly," he hisses, making my lower my glowering gaze and stare at his feet, only inches from mine, "does it make you feel? What is it that you're so angry about, _Sam_?" He says my name like it's an insult, and I flinch, all of the anger and the fire drained out of me.

"Nothing," I mumble, and then his hands are in my hair, forcing me to meet his eyes, but not in a good way. And his eyes don't look the way they usually do, either. Darkness shrouds their sea-foam coloured shine, and I don't want to look. But he makes me look anyway.

"Oh, no, it's something, Sam, I know it's something..." He's getting closer and closer to the thoughts I bury in the back of my head, forbidden forbidden forbidden thoughts, with a big sign in front of them. DO NOT ENTER. He's prying open the locks with a voice of liquid hate.

"No," I whisper. I can't look. I don't want to look. But I have to, and his dark eyes drown me in their treacherous depths.

"You," he hisses; words like snakes, slithering over my skin, teasing its vulnerability with their deadly fangs, "are a liar." Come to think of it, his words are more like daggers, each one re-opening a different wound, the blood dripping onto the floor at our feet, which are now touching. I don't understand how I know this, since I can't pull my eyes away from his hardened stare to look down, but I just know. I know because some confused sensory neurons don't seem to comprehend the danger of the situation, and insist on filling my stomach with the dreaded butterflies. I am bathed in icy sweat. Is it just me, or is it suddenly unbearably hot in here?

All of a sudden, I am tired. Tired of the games, tired of it all. The world is getting hazy.

"Then tell me," I sigh. "Tell me why I am so angry." For a moment, he seems to consider this, to contemplate whether to stop here, or to go on. Then, he realises that none of what he has said can be taken back. He needs to go on. I read it in his eyes before he says it.

"You're jealous," he says, "aren't you?"

Huh.

That's funny.

When I imagined him saying it, finally stating what I thought was obvious all along, I always thought it would be with one of his famous smirks, those that make me want to hit him senseless and run away at the same time. I thought he'd be laughing at me, satisfied with himself and his apparent magnetism. I never, ever would have thought that it would be like this. The fury and hatred have left his expression. His face, instead, is empty. Or at least I think it's empty. I hope it's empty. I'd rather it be empty than what else I expect. That's too terrible to think about.

He seems to realise, suddenly, that we are standing so close together that his breath is my breath, and takes a step back, hitting the edge of the bed with his legs in his hurry to get away from me. And there it is again, in his eyes, undeniable this time. Fear.

I turn around, not wanting to look at him anymore, and walk towards the window. I can't stand this heat. I open the window, and cold air blows in, making my eyes water. At least, I tell myself it's the wind that's causing tears to streak my cheeks.

The open window reminds me of something, another thing that happened recently and already seems like a distant memory.

"The night before you came for breakfast," I say, my back turned to him, "someone was in my room."

A pause.

Then: "Oh."

I lean my head to one side. I feel detached from my body. With hot and cold air pressing against me from either sides of my body and his presence electrifying the hairs on my body, it's all just too much. I don't even care whether he says anything anymore. I close the window with a bang.

Wait! What's wrong with me? Of COURSE I care what he has to say to my accusations. My thoughts are going crazy, switching so fast, my head spinning round, round, round. It's the heat, the heat, the sweltering heat. I need some relief. I can't-

-can't-

-can't-

-even stand.

The next thing I know, he's next to me, propping up my body with his own to keep me from collapsing, his woes momentarily forgotten. I can't believe I almost fainted in front of him. Then again, I still don't feel quite steady-

"What is this?" he demands, but more to the air than to me. "Why is it so hot in here?"

There's smoke, too.

It seeps in through the cracks between door and wall, filling up the room. I cough and sheild my face as Tim sits me against the wall carefully and hurries to the door, throwing it open. He is met by a wave of flames that lick at the walls hungrily.

"How did we not notice this?" he yells. I shrug to myself. I, personally, was pretty preoccupied at the time. The wailing of sirens in the distance silences both of us. We are holding our breath, together. The wailing gets louder. They are close. It seems the neighbours were paying more attention to what was going on in the house than we were.

My eyelids are heavy. Knowing that the sirens are coming for me, I can relax...

"Sam!" He shakes my shoulders violently. "They're not fast enough! We need to get out of here RIGHT NOW!"

I shake my head, slightly delirious. Silly Tim. Doesn't he know that the firefighters are superheroes? They will rescue us. They will. Just relax.

"Sam! You need to stay with me, okay?"

Then, quiet, more to himself: "You choose THIS moment to let someone else take care of you? Really?"

He loops his arm around my waist and legs, picking me up. A small part of my mind is aware that my head is hanging from my neck, so I try, with some last reserve of strength that I really didn't know I had, to sit up a bit in his grip and wrap my arms around his neck. He barely notices, bracing himself as he faces the flames.

Then we are engulfed. My whole body is burning, everything on fire. Most of all my heart. The only thing that isn't hot is his arms, which feel cool, flowing, a bit like water is caressing my body. It may just be the delirium talking, but it feels like he's clutching me to him like I'm the only thing he's thinking about, the one thing he wants to save. I want to show him that, if I could, I would save him a thousand times over. I raise one weak hand to touch his cheek. His face is cold, too, refreshingly cold, like he's a person made of ice in this fire. But he's thawing, from the inside out. I can feel it, even with my hazy heart.

He glances down at me in surprise - not necessarily negative, just surprise. I realise that this may not be the perfect time to stroke his cheek. While I was shielded from the heat by his watery hold, he's been fighting the flames like a pro. Oh.

Without me really noticing, the strength has slowly started to return to my body. I tap his shoulder, and motion for him to let me down. As he reluctantly sets me on my feet, I square my shoulders. The smoke makes my eyes teary. We're at the top of the stairs, which are entirely flooded by fire. I realise something, then.

I'm scared.

I'm so scared.

Then, there's a hand in mine. I look up to see him next to me, staring into the blazing heat rigidly. His profile is stony, strong. It fills me up and empties my mind at the same time. He glances at me for only a second, but there's so much in his eyes at that moment.

Fear. Bravery. Hope. And light.

So much light.

Has that always been there?

Suddenly, he's pulling me with him. The fire roars around us like the monster it is, charring my feet like they're pieces of coal. But I'm not scared anymore. The hand in mine keeps pulling me, pulling me, and it feels like an eternity of fire around us, until finally, we're done.

The situation down here is worse than expected. I lean on his shoulder, breathing hard. I'm not planning to let go of his hand anytime soon.

"All right," he whispers hoarsely, then erupts into a fit of coughs. It's my turn to steady him.

As if angered by his moment of weakness, Tim starts running in the suspected direction of the door decisively. It's hard to keep up with him, but his hand hold me close.

And then we're out.

He's stopped running, standing still as a statue. I run into him face-first, sending both of us toppling onto the front lawn. The grass tickles my arms uncomfortably-

And that's when I feel the pain. It's white-hot in my mind, searing away my thoughts. I must've not felt it because of the adrenaline, but now...

I can't even think. It's all consuming. Rolling over, slowly because it hurts so much, I face Tim. His clothes are partly burned off, his face blackened by the soot. I raise a few quivering fingers to lightly brush it off his cheekbone, and I can see he's trying hard not to scream in pain. But he doesn't. He doesn't even flinch.

"You saved me," I whisper. I can't hold it in.

"I-" he begins, then breaks off, confusion clouding his eyes. I think he didn't even realise what he's done until I said it.

"I wanted to- I- you-" he stutters, and I look at him expectantly. I want to hear this, hear him out this time.

"You couldn't die," he states flatly.

"And I didn't," I say, smiling. He smiles back at me automatically.

That's what we're doing when the wailing of the sirens finally stops. They're here. A few men find us and try to help Tim up. He swats them off, annoyed, and does it himself, in obvious pain. My body aching and burning, I shoo of the firefighters, with their helping hands and soothing words.

"Go away, all of you," I snap. They retreat hesitantly.

I place my hands on Tim's shoulders and look into his eyes. They do not meet mine.

"You helped me today, a lot. You could stand to accept some help, too." No reaction.

"Tim," I sigh, rolling my eyes. He flinches and stares at me.

"You've never called me that."

"What?" I ask, annoyed. "Of course I have."

"No. No." He shakes his head violently. "It was Scam, always Scam. The criminal, the monster, Scam, not worthy, not-"

I watch in horror as he starts chanting insults, almost to himself.

"Tim," I say, laying one hand on his chest, "Tim. You're not a monster. You saved me today."

"Criminals can't be heroes," he tells me, in a matter-of-fact kind of way, as if he's surprised I don't agree.

"Yes," I argue, growing desperate, "yes, they can!"

He just shakes his head bitterly. I shake his shoulders, not caring if I'm hurting him.

"Please," I plead, "please, Tim."

I don't even know what I'm begging for anymore.

Except maybe I do. I do when his lips are on mine, suddenly. I know what I was asking for. I was asking for him to stop thinking he's not worthy, because it's stupid, and untrue, and- I was asking for him to understand that this cannot possibly be wrong, it's so right right right.

I know this because I feel it in his lips. I feel that he knows it too, that it's right in every way.

His kiss is a spectrum of contrasts. His lips are soft on mine, pressing onto my mouth like a question, when we both know there was always only one answer; yet there is a roughness to them that is foreign to me, the roughness of danger, of anger, of loss. His kiss is one of fury, and passion, almost like I'm not even a part of it; but then I feel his fingertips resting lightly on my waist, like he doesn't want to break me. Because I'm too precious. And, closing my eyes, that's exactly how I feel. He may not know it, but he's precious, too.

The greatest contrast, though, is the way he makes me feel. There's water and fire again, but they are in perfect harmony this time. Waves of ecstasy flood my body, filling me up, while a flame burns in the pit of my stomach. But this flame is not dangerous. Never dangerous.

I pull away from him, meaning to look into his eyes, to see him, really see him this time. Instead, my gaze is pulled over his shoulder, to fixate the inconspicuous black car pulling up behind the firetruck. Men in black suits get out, muscles bulging as they walk towards us. Before I know it, they've grabbed him, and they're pulling him away from me. I try to hold on, but another agent is pinning my arms to my sides. I scream his name, but he doesn't seem to hear me. His eyes are dull. He's going back. The knowledge of that is numbing his senses. I know enough about him to understand that the worst thing you could do to him is chain him down, keep him in a cell, locked up.

Desperately, I turn to yell at the agent holding me captive, then stop short, changing my mind.

"Don't you understand? He needs to be free!" I beg.

A polite cough behind me makes me spin around.

"Congratulations, Sam," Jerry says. "You just helped to catch the most sought-after criminal in the country."

I shake my head.

"No," I whisper, "no, no, no, please, no."

Jerry pats my shoulder, smirking.

"You can stop being scared, Sam. Don't worry.

You'll never see him again."

* * *

><p>I'm not even going to say anything. I'll leave it to you. Please please please don't lurk. Just review. YES I WANT YOUR OPINIONS.<p>

I'm not so sure about my writing on this chapter, I feel like it wasn't as good as usual, somehow. Please be sure to tell me if there was something wrong with it, okay? Help is appreciated.

Love,

Ty.


	9. Grief and Gullibility

Hi guys.

Slightly less excited A/N today. I'm feeling a bit disheartened.  
>No reviews make me sad.<br>I NEED REVIEWS TO GIVE ME THE ENERGY AND INSPIRATION TO WRITE SO THIS IS ON YOU OKAY? So if you want to keep reading, you'd better review :P If you don't, well, I guess this won't really concern you...?

Big thanks to my three actual reviewers though. YOU GUYS ROCK! So yeah.

This one's for you.

**Disclaimer:  
>TS doesn't belong to me, but I'm guessing that's a good thing, because I'd probably focus on SamScam only and completely abandon other storylines. Which, I'm sure, would not please the kids. It WOULD please me... but no.<br>Just no.**

* * *

><p>I wallow for a few days, after that. Could be one, could be twenty. Does it matter?<p>

No one comes near me. No one dares. I am alone to drown in my self-pity, just to cry and cry and cry, all alone for once.

Okay. I wish.

We are temporarily living at Clover's house. Stella was nice enough to offer to accomodate all of us, even Avery, whom she doesn't even know. Then again, they definitely have the space; Clover's house is like a mansion. In trying to cope with what happened, I have taken to making lists. Here is a list of people who just won't leave me alone:

1. Mom. Of course, she has no idea about Him, but still, she knows something is up. It's not that hard to notice, really, when I've locked myself in my room. She gave up pretty soon, though, blaming it on my period. Which is completely ridiculous, of course, but I will admit that the hot tea, warm cushions and maternal hugs are nice. Even though they don't really help. Nothing helps.

2. Clover. She keeps lecturing me about 'taking one for the team', in her new, 'stern Clover' voice. Like I even know what that means. She's just about the most annoying person I know, and she's not even being her usual, vapid self. I don't have time to dwell on this, though. I'm in mourning of my happiness.

3. Avery. She keeps trying to be friends with me. If I weren't so busy crying, I'd definitely be wondering why she's suddenly dropped the holier-than-thou perfect-girl act. Anyway, she's back to bitchy Avery, except it's kind of like I got my cousin back. She's fun again. Which is weird, because she seemed to be trying so hard to be 'better'. Then again, it's not like any of that really matters to me. It's just that she keeps smirking, like she's laughing at me, like I'm so clueless. I'd slap here if I could. But I can't. All my hands seem to be capable of is wiping away my tears when they start running into my mouth like liquid salt.

Over time, I manage to work myself from silly lists, like the list of tacky things in the guest room that is now mine, to more painful subjects. Some, I still don't want to think about. But I have made a list of reasons why we would never have worked out anyway. I only think about that when I'm feeling really, really confident. Otherwise, I just shatter on the floor, lying motionless, like broken glass.

Also, I don't talk to anyone. It's not that I can't talk now that he's gone, or anything. I mean, I'm not an overdramatic female character from some cheap romance novel. It's just that I have nothing to say. Today, Avery comes in and tries to get me to talk to her. She insults me in various ways to achieve a reaction. She fails, though.

"Fine," she snaps. "Be that way. It's not like I need you anyway. I can take care of myself."

She's out the door before I recognise the phrase. It's what Alex said in my dream. _My dream..._

HOLY-! MY DREAM!

I remind myself its exact course, the exact conversation between Jerry and Alex. _Collateral damage_. That's what he said I was. Which is weird, because no one knows that there was something real between Scam and I. Except, if Jerry really thought there was nothing there... why would I be "damaged"? _  
><em>

I shake my head quickly. Why would I even go there? Looking for answers in dreams? Sounds a little desperate. Then again... I AM desperate. Before, I wasn't even thinking about why they arrested Scam. They could only arrest him if he'd actually done something, right? I stand up suddenly and rummage around my bag for my X-Powder. Ignoring the fact that I'm still in my PJs, I beep Jerry about WOOHPing me immediately. I need answers, and I need them now.

Anything to get me out of this hole they call heartbreak.

* * *

><p>I fall onto the red couch with a painful clatter.<p>

Jerry stands in front of me, looking pained. I get up quickly, strangely embarassed. I try to cross my arms and stare at my boss in a no-nonsense sort of way. It doesn't work. All I see when I look at him is the image from my dream. Him and Alex. Kissing. It's too much, and I flop back down on the couch, all the purpose I came here with drained out of me. I'm so confused. The lines between my dreams and reality are so blurry right now, and I just don't know what to believe. Am I really going to confront Jerry on the grounds of something that could, for all I know, just be my imagination going crazy?

Then I remember something else. Something I wanted to ask him, that doesn't sound too insane.

"Jer?" The nickname sounds estranged, coming from my mouth now, after everything. Then again, what has REALLY changed? I mean, technically, he hasn't done anything out of the ordinary. Alex left WOOHP because she wanted too, Clover turned weird by herself, and we were always trying to get Scam behind bars again, right? Right. Then why does it feel so wrong?

"Sam," he states, smiling in a fatherly way. My mind twists his paternal expression into a grimace. I shake my head to clear it.

"Yeah. Um, I was just, you know, wondering. Uh, yeah. I was wondering why you arrested Scam?"

Jerry sighs and turns his back to me.

"Because he's a criminal, Sam."

"Oh, yeah, of course. I know that. It's just-" I fumble for the right words. "I thought you weren't allowed to commit him because there was no evidence..."

"We weren't," Jerry says quietly, "until he did... something else." My heart is beating way too fast. I can feel the blood pumping, making thumping sounds behind my ears.

"What? What did he do?" I demand. I need to know. I need to know more than I've ever needed anything in the world, ever. I get up and walk towards Jerry. He turns to face me, and I see a lot of sympathy in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Sam. I didn't want to have to tell you this. But I had a feeling you'd come looking for answers."

"What did he do?" My voice sounds high-pitched. Hysterical.

"You might want to sit down," Jerry says, smilling sadly, like it's hurting him to say this. I do, not taking my eyes off him.  
>"Well," he begins, taking a seat next to me and laying a comforting hand on my knee. It all fills me with a sense of dark foreboding. It's not so great.<p>

"What?" I almost scream. He doesn't flinch.

"The fire, Sam. It was him. He was so angry. At WOOHP. At you. Do you remember which spy caught him last time? Well, he did. It was you, Sam. So he wanted to get back at you. But he didn't just want to kill you, you see?"

"Avery..." I mumble.

"Yes. He wanted to find a way into your life, to destroy you from the inside before he actually murdered you. To alienate you from everyone. To make you so instable that you wouldn't even notice a fire in your own house. But it didn't work, did it? You noticed."

"But he saved me!" I protest meekly.

"He did, to throw you off the track. And then, he decided on an even better plan, didn't he? A plan that brought him even closer to you. As close as one person could possibly get."

The kiss. The butterflies.

"He wanted me to fall in love with him," I state, unable to focus my eyes on anything. I stare at the wall while Jerry wraps me in a paternal hug.

"Yes. Yes, but, see, it didn't work. We stopped him before he could destroy you. See, Sam? You're okay. It didn't work," he says, almost enthusiastically.

I laugh bitterly. Oh, it worked. It worked, and I am anything but okay. It hurts so much. The lies, the _lies_. And the lies aren't even the worst thing. What he did was, when you think about it, not altogether out of character. He's targetted us in so many different ways, using our jobs, our mothers, everything... It almost makes too much sense that he would use MYSELF against me. No. That really isn't so bad. What hurts the most is how stupid I was. How gullible. How desperate for his affection. And how self-destructive I still seem to be. Because even after everything Jerry just told me, all I can think is _nononononononono_. My mind is like a broken disk, stuck on denial.

Jerry smiles at me reassuringly.

"I'll give you a minute," he says, releasing me from the hug with one last quick pat on the back. I almost laugh at the irony. I was coming here to confront my boss, to throw crazy accusations at him. Instead, I'm the one who did everything wrong, who stepped into every trap because she wanted so badly to believe. _I'm_ the criminal.

Jerry leaves his office through a side door that I can only guess leads to another, smaller office-type room. It doesn't really matter.

I stand up and start pacing around the room. Sitting still has never really worked for me. I stop short when I catch my reflection in one of the smooth planes of glass lining the office. The girl on the other side has straggly red hair and streaks of mascara scarring her flushed cheeks. Her eyes are lost. She is not at all the put-together girl I always aspired to be. This is the girl that let a crush lead her of the path of sensible, logical thinking and doing what's right. The girl who would still rather believe in lies than the cold, hard truth. Frustrated, I try as hard as I can to ignore this girl, to push her doubts out of my mind for good.

For a split second I contemplate visiting Scam in the criminal holding facility to get some closure, and, okay, maybe scream at him a little... But then I shake my head. That would only make me remember the futile romantic notions that led me astray, and I'm sure he would find loads of ways to mess with my head. No. No. Better to just concentrate on school and work, and to try to forget.

Who am I kidding? I will never forget. I'm not sure that I'll ever feel that way about anyone again. But maybe that's a good thing. Maybe it's useful to be constantly reminded of how stupid and blind love makes people. Maybe it will be good to never be that blind again. It'll definitely make my life a lot less complicated. I think. I hope. Yeah. Okay.

Nodding to myself, I walk over to the door Jerry disappeared through to let him know that I'm done feeling sorry for myself. But what I discover on the other side makes my breath catch in my throat.

Standing with her back to me, facing a serious Jerry, who's eyes widen in shock when he sees me, is a WOOHP spy that I have never seen before. Okay, scratch that. Never seen HERE before. Clad in a black spy-suit, auburn hair gathered into a slick ponytail, is a woman who turns around slowly when she reads Jerry's expression.

Time seems to slow down significantly as she faces me, the corners of her mouth turning upwards in her signature smirk.

"Hi, Sammiekins!" Avery exclaims, and gathers me in a hug that really feels a lot more like prison bars.

* * *

><p>Okay. Is it just me, or does Jerry's story, like, totally not add up in wayyy too many places? And Avery finally reveals her true identity. Whaddaya think, guys? Liked it? Hated it? Review please, and let me know.<p>

The next chapter should be up a lot sooner, and you'll finally get some answers. Some. Because it's the 10th :) Also, there'll be quite a lot of action, and some cheesy cheesy romance. But whatever. I like it when they kiss. HINT HINT.

Love to all of you, even the lurkers (though I'd still appreciate some reviews...),

Type.


	10. We Need To Talk About Samantha

Holà, my dear readers!

First off, I really appreciate the new reviewers! Some variation is always great :)  
>Okay, so, Chapter 10. That means it's going to be pretty important. Also, it's batshit-crazy. Seriously. Don't say I didn't warn you. If you expected it... kudos to you. I thought it was pretty damn unexpected. But anyway. I was going to make this a lovey-dovey chapter, SamScam all over the place, blablabla, you get what I'm saying. But I have a twisted mind. Every single time I try to make a story light and sweet, it ends up going dark. So I'm attempting a different approach - first, I'm laying a dark and messed-up foundation, and then, dear readers, you will get your romance. I swear.<p>

Enjoy nonetheless!

**Disclaimer:**

**It isn't. If you know what I'm talking about.  
>Come on.<br>You so know.**

* * *

><p>I step out of Avery's tight embrace and walk towards the office chair in the middle of the room with leaden limbs. As I sit down, I place my hands in front of my face and let my shoulders slump.<p>

"Explain," I mumble into my open palms. Avery and Jerry glance at each other, then my boss motions for her to speak.

"Well, it's not all that complicated, really," my cousin says, smiling hesitantly. I remove my hands and just stare at her. "I'm an undercover agent, Sammie," she continues quickly, "have been for a year now."

"She's quite the prodigy," Jerry puts in. "Your cousin finished a 3-year training program in 2 months."

"Huh," I say. I don't think they were really expecting more of a reaction, anyway.

"I was supposed to keep an eye on Scam - just to make sure that he didn't do anything dangerous."

"So your relationship with him-"

"Was completely fake," she completes my sentence, smiling. "Of course, I couldn't tell you. The less people knew, the better. We didn't want anyone giving me away."

"And every time you snuck off... you were coming here," I state. It's not a question, but she nods in agreement anyway.

I shake my head slowly - it's so much to take in. Then again, it sort of makes sense - she went from immature to sophisticated so fast that it must have had some sort of reason. Turns out, she got a... job.

"I apologize for not letting you know just now," Jerry says. "I thought it may be too much to find out about Scam's betrayal and Avery's secret all at once." I feel myself nodding, unsure whether my brain actually authorised the movement. Before I can stop her, Avery moves to me again. I push her away gingerely.

"Sorry," she murmurs, her tongue stumbling over the words. "Too soon?" I shrug. To be honest, I just don't really enjoy hugging her.

"I mean, I'm just, like, SO glad that it's all out in the open now, and we can be superspies together!" she gushes. I raise an eyebrow at Jerry. _Together?_

"We weren't going to tell you until tomorrow, but Avery will be joining you and Clover on missions from now on," he says matter-of-factly. I frown.

"So she's taking over Alex's place?" I inquire. No. Jerry wouldn't do that.

"Of course not," he amends hurriedly, and I breathe out a sigh of relief. But it's temporary relief, as it turns out. "This will be a new start. A clean slate, if you will," he continues fluidly, smoothly. Almost as if he's rehearsed it.

Avery stands next to Jerry and loops an arm around his middle in a kind of cuddle.

"We'll be a team!" she exclaims, and he moves one arm to encircle her shoulders. They stand in front of me, arm-in-arm, the way I have stood with him a thousand times. And so has Clover. And... Alex. My mind spins. Suddenly, they seem TOO close, TOO friendly. Was it like this with Alex? Of course it was. How did I never notice it? And it's too much, too much, all of a sudden, to be standing here and having to watch it all over again. I can't. I can't.

"I'm leaving," I say shortly, because I don't trust myself to say much more than that.

Leaving my boss and new co-spy to exchange worried glances, I walk out of the door and out of this room, where the air has become thin, and my thoughts have become poisonous. I make it to the corridor with trembling legs, before they give way altogether and I collapse in a quivering heap. I feel ashamed of my constant displays of weakness, but then again, I haven't really felt strong in a long time. So I guess it's nothing new.

When I am calm enough to sit up, I move into an upright position slowly, warily. This is all getting so old. When will things stop happening to me?

Out of the corner of my eye, I register two figures approaching. Black and orange. A prisoner and a WHOOP escort. As they come closer, I recognize the man in black. I've worked with him before, on a case concerning... Diminutive Smalls, I think it was. His name is... Robert? No, that's not it... The prisoner, on the other hand, keeps his head low and his body slumped, forcing the agent to support most of his weight. The agent... agent... Agent Roy Samuels! Got it!

Too late, I attempt to shield my face from his curious eyes. He recognizes me.

"Sam? I thought I knew that red hair... Wait," he says, kneeling down in front of me, looking concerned. "Are you all right?"

As if my name were some kind of code, the prisoner lifts his head, suddenly, and stares at me.

"Samantha Simpson," he whispers under his breath. "Well, I'll be damned."

"Uh... do I know you?" I ask, confused. His face seems vaguely familiar, but I just can't place it...

"Jason Rivers," he says, pointing towards himself. The name is new to me. He laughs bitterly. There is no humour in it. "What, you don't remember? Operation SamScam?"

"W-what?" I stutter, and suddenly, there it is. The guy in front of the computer, the 'diamond-robber'. The question that was never answered, and then I forgot all about it. How could I have forgotten?

At the word 'SamScam', Roy shuddered visibly. Frowning now, he stands up and grabs Rivers firmly by his right arm. Though the prisoner makes no move to struggle from the agent's grip, his eyes do not leave my face.

"You're so much younger than I thought," he whispers hoarsely. "I didn't think- They never said- I-"

"That's enough," Roy snaps, but as he pulls Jason Rivers away, he can't seem to help throwing me a guilty glance over his shoulder. Does he know something that I don't?

Before the figures disappear from sight once again, Rivers throws all his weight into shoving Roy away from him, so that he can turn around to yell something at me before the agent clamps a hand over his mouth. I can't make out exactly what he's shouting, but the last sentence rings loud and clear in my ears.

"Your boss is not who you think he is!"

* * *

><p>An hour later, I find myself in what is possibly the company I would least have expected to be in yesterday. But now... I guess the expected just isn't really working for me anymore.<p>

"Why, exactly, am I here again?" Alex asks, popping a large gum bubble, seemingly indifferent. But I can see the hurt that simmers right below her projection of nonchalance.

"I don't know, I just-" I've never had a problem expressing myself with words. Come on. Me? Speechless? _Pull yourself together, Sam! _"All these things keep happening, and nothing is adding up anymore. But I just can't seem to make sense of anything. I couldn't do this alone."

"So, let me get this straight. You come to my house and basically end our friendship" - I try to object, but Alex holds up one hand and just keeps talking over me - "and now you're asking me for _help? _Wait, wait, I can't even really help you. _Moral support?_"

"God! Can you girls just stop bitching at each other and let me work for a minute?" Arnold snaps before I can attempt to explain myself. It's the most decisive tone I've ever heard him use with me - usually he's way too head-over-heels to be annoyed with anything I do. After a moment's contemplation, I decide that I like this new side of him. It's... feisty.

"I just thought... If I'm going to snoop around behind Jerry's back, I thought I might as well enlist the help of the person who hates him the most right now," I tell her under my breath, while Arnold's finger's fly over the keyboard at a maddening pace.

"What makes you think I hate Jerry?" she inquires, mildly surprised. I had forgotten that she doesn't know that I know. If it's even true. Which I'm fairly sure it is.

"I mean... he just... dropped you out of the team," I say, trying to cover it up. Then, the words start flowing more smoothly. Turns out she has a lot to be mad about. "He lied, too! He said you were just going to take a break... and then he totally alienated you from your job AND your friends. Not to mention replacing you with Av-" I stop short. Too much information. Shit. Alex's face betrays no emotion. When did she become so good at concealing her pain?

"Replacing me with who?" she asks, softly. It's no use back-pedaling now. Silently, I curse my big mouth.

"With Avery," I mumble reluctantly. She raises an eyebrow.

"And what exactly do you mean by the term 'replacing'?" I hear my own sharp intake of breath. I can't tell her about the extent to which he is replacing her - as his... I don't even know what you would call it. _Girlfriend?_ Ew! - because that, too, would give away how much I know. Ugh. Talking to her is so complicated now!

"He wants us to be a team of three again. Clover and I... plus Avery." A shadow passes across her eyes, almost too fast for me to notice. She hesitates.

"Do you want to be in that team?" she asks, not meeting my eyes.

"Alex," I say, placing a hand on her shoulder, which makes her flinch ever-so-slightly, "no. Of course not. It's you, me and Clover all the way. Promise. Anyway, I hate this new spy-version of my cousin. She outsmarted me. And that sort of pisses me off." Alex laughs - out loud. I have missed us laughing, together.

"When did you get so honest?" she asks, and I know she doesn't mean it as an insult. It's not that I used to lie, or anything, but I was never this outright. I hadn't even really noticed it until she pointed it out. I shrug.

"Comes with the drama, I guess. A girl can only take so many secrets from other people before she stops keeping them herself." With the word 'secrets', Alex cringes - not hard, but I notice. Not that I meant _her_ secrets, of course... but it must be really exhausting for her to keep it all in. I glance at Arnold, who is still hacking almost manically into the WOOHP database using the information we could give him, his back turned to us. I hake Alex's hand and lead her out of his room. I'm not familiar with Arnold's house, or anything - it's not like visiting him is something I would do just for the fun of it - but I find the broom closet easily enough. Once we're inside, I place my hands on Alex's shoulders and attempt to stare her down while simultaneously projecting trustworthiness and understanding.

"Alex," I say calmly, "you can tell me. Anything. No judgment." I lay a hand over my heart. "I swear."

She sniffles slightly, then looks away, a glimmer of suspicion in her eyes.

"You _know_, don't you?" she asks. Her voice is even, almost robotic. It scares me, and I kind of don't know what to say anyway. So I just nod. Her expression becomes angry so suddenly that I flinch... but the fire in her dark eyes is not directed at me.

"He TOLD you, didn't he? I'm sure he let Clover and you know just exactly how much of a slut I am, huh? When I LOVED him, and HE was the one that kicked me out of WOOHP. But hey, whatever! I'M the slut. What an asshole! I can't even-" she is breathing heavily, rage almost making her speechless. I am unsure as to how to react - this is not a situation I've ever been in before. To be honest, I haven't even completely come to terms with the idea of them having a secret relationship while Clover and I stood idly by, ignoring the signs. But Alex needs me, so I just pretend that Jerry's any other teenage guy instead of our middle-aged boss.

"He doesn't deserve you anyway," I say softly, laying an arm over Alex's shoulders and leaning the side of my head against hers. She stifles sobs with her hand, and speaks in a muffled voice through her parted fingers.

"He said I was special. That I was so beautiful, so energetic, so full of life. And that being around me made HIM feel alive." No longer able to control herself, my best friend buries her head in my shoulder, mussing up my hair with her mascara-black tears.

"I was so in love," she whispers, so quietly I almost don't hear it. I'm not sure that it was meant for my ears anyway. It may have been just for her.

* * *

><p>When we walk back into Arnold's room, me half-carrying Alex, he turns to grin at us, his face almost as red as his hair. I can read the pride of accomplishment, the excitement of facing a challenge in his eyes. I used to know that feeling. Until I became to preoccupied with the challenges that were thrown at me in everyday life to focus on problems that I chose to solve just for the thrill of it.<p>

"I did it," he laughs, smacking the table. "I actually did it."

"Uh, yeah, I guess you did," I say, smiling. "Thanks a lot, umm, Arnold. This was... amazing of you."

His face contorts slightly as he furrows his brow at me, suddenly all business.

"So I didn't open any of the files, just like you told me to. But they're all on this disc." He holds up a circular object that glimmers in the darkness of the room. "And I know I'm not supposed to ask, but... why did I just hack into the database of a top-secret spy organisation?" I was dreading this question, hoping that Arnold's curiosity wouldn't get the better of him. But of course it did. I'd ask, too, if it were me. We're not that different, in the end. Maybe no one's that different from each other. But I dismiss the thought quickly - that would mean that I'm not so different from Avery, and Jerry's not so different from... Tim. Even thinking his name sends a jolt of electricity through my body. I shake my head to clear it. We have more important things to focus on. Especially right now - when I'm about to rely completely on my... uh... natural charm and my apparent appeal to nerds like Arnold (and I do not use the term 'nerd' offensively. Hello, me? Miss Study-24/7? Or... ex-Miss. I guess. I haven't been studying much lately, as I think one could imagine) to protect the biggest secret I have. One of the only ones I still have. Except for The Scam Thing, of course. I feel a pang of guilt as I look at Alex. She told me just about the hugest secret you can ever trust a person with, and I'm still afraid to tell her mine. Hypocrite much? But as I stare at Alex guiltily, she motions toward Arnold with her head, reminding me of what I have to do.

"Because," I tell him, leaning in closely so that, even in the dim light of the computer screens within his otherwise dark room, I can see him blush all the way to his ears, "you like doing me favours."

"And now," I continue, "I _owe_ you." I kiss his cheek with a smack and grab the disc out of his hand while he scrunches up his nose to push up his glasses, speechless.

"Thanks, Arnold, you're a doll!" Alex shouts over her shoulder as we rush out of the room, giggling hard. Once we're out on the street, we almost collapse on the snowy pavement with laughter.

"Who would've thought you were such an evil temptress, Sammie?" Alex chuckles, wiping tears from her eyes while I struggle to regain a normal breathing rhythm.

"Come on," I scold, standing up and dusting myself off. I flash the disc at her and grin. "Time to expose the boss."

* * *

><p>"I can't."<p>

"Come ON, Sammie! This was your idea! You HAVE to read this. I mean, come on. It's, like, RIGHT THERE. The answer to all of your questions!"

_SamScam, _hums the file in my head. _Come on, Sammie. You know you want to._

"I don't want to!" I half-yell, making Alex step back in surprise. I run my hands through my hair, which is more greasy than I'd like it to be. I wasn't really showering a lot when I was in my heartbreak-phase. Sort of regret that now.

"I can't," I mumble. "I can't take any more of this today." Alex frowns.

"Sam," she says sharply. "Stop being a wimp and read the stupid file. It's not something you can just put off. This is IMPORTANT."

I sigh and nod in defeat, then glance at Alex, who's eyes widen as she stares past me at the door. I spin around to face... my cousin.

"Avery," I say, exhausted. When is she going to leave me alone?

"Hey, Sammie." She looks past me at Alex. "Oh, hello, Aly! Jer says hi!" I can practically feel her cringe behind me. It's like Avery hit her with a baseball bat. Does she TRY to make people feel this bad, or is it just in her nature?

"It's Alex," I say, feeling the need to stand up for my best friend. Even against my cousin. ESPECIALLY against my cousin.

"Right. Alex," she smiles. "Well, anyways, I'm really sorry to interrupt your night, but Gabby wants to talk to you."

"Fine," I say, hoping it'll make her leave.

"As in, right now," Avery continues. "Again, I'm really sorry. But it seems urgent."

Alex gets up and throws me a tight smile.

"It's okay, Sam. I was leaving anyway." Out of the corner of my eye, I see her right hand dropping something into her bag, discretely. I nod curtly and follow Avery out of the room, feeling Alex's eyes on us until the door falls shut with a bang behind me.

My cousin is strangely silent as we walk down the stairs with leaden steps. My lungs are strangely tight as I see my mother. She waves at me from the foyer. When I reach her, she takes my arm and guides me out of the house, wordlessly. I do not struggle. A glance over my shoulder shows Avery, watching us from her position leaning against the doorframe, shivering lightly as snowflakes, slowly but surely, fill her view of us. And fill my view of her. I only make out shadows now, as Alex tentatively pushes past her and hurries in the opposite direction.

My mother's grip on my arm is firm. I do not feel the cold. I do not feel. I do not. I don't. I don't know. I don't know anything. When did this happen to me? How did I get so confused? When did everything change?

I dig my heels into the snow.

"Mom. What are we doing?"

She turns to face me with a sigh and sad, sad eyes. Her eyes are so much like mine. Are my eyes that sad?

"Sam, I'm not stupid. I know you've been getting worse. We thought you were better - that's why you were allowed to stop taking your pills, and you didn't have to talk to Dr. Maria anymore, remember? But they warned us that this would happen. A... a relapse. Do you understand me, Sam?

I do not nod. I do not shake my head. My tongue is heavy. My head is heavy. My thoughts are weighing me down. I wish I could turn them off. Then I could float up into the air, away from our 'serious conversation', away from everything, up, up, up.

"You can't pretend not to have noticed it, Sam. The nightmares. The crying. The silence. The shutting yourself in, shutting everyone out. Shutting ME out." She does not attempt to disguise the hurt in her voice. Anything to get me to react.

"Oh, my God," I want to say, but all that comes out is a disfigured moan. It only makes her tighten her hold on me. Her sad eyes search mine for a remainder of light, bright, smart and happy Sam. Oh, Mom. Don't you know Scam stole that Sammie away from you? This is just her shell. Say "hello shell". Don't try to fill it up with your complicated concern and bitter words, Mom. My shell is my protection. My shell is my prison. I tried so hard to take it off. But now I'm not sure I want to know what Happy Sam left behind. Because that's what's in my shell now. Do you want to see the inside of my beautiful prison? Because I don't think I do.

"So here's what's going to happen, Sam. I need you to listen to me, and really listen, okay? You're going to go and live with your father for a while. Get away from the city, all of the stress, you know. You can see a doctor over there that Dr. Maria recommended. I think it'll be good for you. God knows it's our last option."

I close my eyes.

"I'm going to miss you so much, honey," she sniffles. And suddenly, my voice returns.

"Then why are you sending me away? Is it because you can't handle it? Am I too much work?" She stares at me in horror, rendered speechless by my sudden vehemence. "Because you could have just said so. I'd have been out of your hair in no time at all. In fact," I snarl, surprised by the viciousness of my own performance, "I'll stop bothering you right now." With that, I free myself from her grasp, turn around, and let my feet carry me away from her on wings made of tears. Her screams follow me, chase me, catch me, envelop me. I am freezing. But inside, I am boiling, so I suppose there's some kind of balance going on there.

Then, without any forewarning, my legs give way, and I collapse on the floor. Immediately, instinctively, my body moves into a foetal position. I have no idea what I'm doing, what I did, what's going on here. Or do I?

I think it's time I explained.

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><p>Oh, well. I hope you liked this, even though Scam did not make an actual appearance in this chapter. I promise promise promise that he will be in chapter 12, in a big way. And then you can have your kiss and whatnot. It would, all in all, be extremely flattering if you enjoyed this chapter anyway. If you did, please let me know. And even if you didn't, just leave a review telling me so - although I do not appreciate flames, only CONSTRUCTIVE criticism.<p>

I am truly sorry for taking so long on this. It has to do with some personal problems - mostly family stuff, although there was some relationship shit in there as well. But that's all forgotten now! I am ready to really dive into this story. I hope you are too.

Love,  
>Type<p>


	11. Things That Aren't There

Aaaand here we are again. I promised this one would be up sooner, I KNOW, but I actually have a viable explanation this time. See, I'm now at boarding school, and the school server won't let me access . Which is unbelievably annoying, but once in a while, I stay over at a friend's house and just use their computer to publish prewritten stuff. I'm sorry to have made you wait for so long. I assure you, it was a drag for me as well!

I hope Sam's explanation of her condition is not too confuzzling - I tried to make it logical. In fact, the fire in chapter 8 was actually written as a scene in which some of her delusion shows, but then it got too extreme, so I rewrote it. Oh well. Now I'll just have to give it to you in one chunk.

**Disclaimer:**

**Would you believe it?! I almost forgot the disclaimer! How could I forget that TS isn't mine? I guess it was wishful thinking. Hmph.**

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><p><em>It's not like it's a big secret or anything. Of course, I don't really love talking about it. Duh. But Jerry knows it, and so do my friends. Even Avery, actually, although she's not really familiar with any of the details. It's why she's so condescending all of the time. It's how most people act when they know about me, but don't actually KNOW me. They talk the way they would talk to a child. Because they think I can't understand them, or reciprocate their adult emotions or whatnot. They think my condition makes me stupid. Which is actually not a very intelligent assumption. Insanity is supposed to be so close to genius, right? Not that I'm a genius, or anything. I'm just me. And I'm actually less sure of what that means than ever.<em>

_When I was 7, my parents noticed that I was different. Not bad different, just different. We went to see a doctor, and they told us that I was at the intellectual level of someone twice my age. Imagine being 7 and thinking like a 14-year-old! Of course, I know better than anyone that it wasn't like that at all. The thing is, my brain was at the level of a 14-year-olds, but I had only been taught, up to then, what a 7-year-old was taught. Which the doctors say was a big mistake. A big, big, big mistake. Because apparently, that was how I developed the condition._

_Of course, I was predisposed, and all that, but still. My brain looked for another outlet. Which ended up being my imagination. And I know, know. A vivid imagination is a good thing, bla bla bla. Well, turns out it isn't all that great paired with a history of crazy cases in the family. So there I was, at 7, seeing things. Seeing things that other's couldn't, didn't, wouldn't. And I don't mean ghosts, or anything._

_I guess you could say I was a 7-year-old with conspiracy theories. And then that developed into mild depression, which soon became heavy depression, and I'm not even sure when I started locking myself in my room and refusing to talk to anyone. But I do know that at the age of 10, I tried to kill myself._

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><p><em>I didn't succeed. Obviously. What I did succeed in was making everyone even more worried. So I was sent to a mental institution for a while. It wasn't all that bad, really. When you feel as misunderstood as I did at the time, it's sort of a relief to be around people who have been marked as crazy also. Of course, most of them actually WERE crazy. But still.<em>

_The time I spent there made me tough. And smart, if I do say so myself. The other inmates taught me that it was much easier to just act average than to try to convice people that your condition is not a problem. I'm not that bad of an actress, as it turns out. Then again, who knows, part of my "normal" act may have been real. I did leave feeling a little revitalised... at the age of 14. _

_My parents didn't want me to have to deal with the pressure of being "that girl who tried to kill herself" - so we moved. Easy. It was the summer before my freshman year. L.A. in the summer, let me tell you, is the place to be. Lounging on deckchairs by the pool, going to beach parties... I almost did feel "normal". Of course, there was always that nagging voice in my head, telling me that something wasn't right, telling me to trust nobody. But you get used to it, just as you can get used to almost anything._

_Then, of course, school started. And let me tell you, it was a GOOD start! I felt much more challenged there, due to several advanced courses that they allowed me to take. And then, of course, there were Clover and Alex. I, who had always been the friendless loner, mostly due to my brains and my depression, now had someone to sit with at lunch, to go to the mall with. It may not sound like much to you, but for me, it was an entirely new experience. And I LOVED it. And let's not forget WOOHP, shall we? Finally, someone was listening to my conspiracy theories, instead of treating them like a child's overactive imagination. Of course, Jerry knew about my past, but he was supportive instead of dismissive. You would not believe how good it felt to be heard. I trusted him wholeheartedly. I might even have loved him. Do you see now why it hurts so terribly to think of him as someone who would so completely betray me? He was so GOOD to me. And I finally had enough things to puzzle about to keep my mind occupied. To keep it from wondering._

_It's been years since I've seen things that weren't there._

_Why now? Am I not allowed  
>to be happy?<em>

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><p>I'm going to let you think about that before I pout up the next chapter. To teh people screaming "more": I hear you, my darlings. I'm being a busy bee and working as hard as I can. That's REALLY why I published this as a short chapter instead of writing for a few more days; I wanted to give you SOMETHING. I hope you enjoyed it, or maybe not enjoyed... liked? I hope it was good. There.<p>

Love,  
>Type<p> 


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